


Splinters

by TariSilmarwen



Series: Mirrorverse [2]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Canonical Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Emotional Hurt, Ezra Bridger Gets a Hug, Ezra Bridger Needs a Hug, Flashbacks, Gen, Insomnia, Kallus as an Exasperated Parent to Iron Squadron, Needles, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Trauma, Triggers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mild hints of pre-relationship sabezra, thrawn and pryce make brief appearances in ezra's nightmares and flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariSilmarwen/pseuds/TariSilmarwen
Summary: Ezra still has scars from his torture on the Chimaera.  But luckily his family is determined to be there for him.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Alexsandr Kallus, Ezra Bridger & C1-10P | Chopper, Ezra Bridger & Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Ezra Bridger & Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger & Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger & The Ghost Crew, The Ghost Crew & Kallus | ISB-021
Series: Mirrorverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556785
Comments: 66
Kudos: 247





	1. Shiver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A direct continuation of my story "Cracks In The Mirror". For those of you who haven't read it, the relevant details are as follows: it's an AU branching off of the episode "Through Imperial Eyes", wherein Thrawn beats Kallus down to Ezra's cell. The retrieval mission quickly becomes a rescue mission for Ezra and Kallus, though not before Ezra is tortured at the hands of the Imperials. The Battle of Atollon happens much sooner in the timescale, though Sato still performs the same heroic sacrifice.
> 
> T rating is for the references and flashbacks to torture, as well as depictions of PTSD, and there will be additional notes if I feel they are necessary before relevant chapters.

He wished he had a blanket. Yavin IV was warmer than Atollon, being a jungle moon, but Ezra still felt chilled.

He rolled over onto his other side, curling up his legs.

It was no use. He couldn't get comfortable.

And it wasn't just his body that was unable to settle. With the noise and distractions of the day gone and darkness surrounding him, his mind felt it so easy to imagine that he was... elsewhere. To recall things. Sounds... images... He could feel them drifting on the edge of his consciousness.

Ezra squeezed his eyes tighter. The sounds cut out, leaving only the gentle hum of the _Ghost'_ s air filtration system. A steady hum. A rhythmic hum. Like the droning hum _of the Imperial IT-O droid as it hovered next to his_ —

Ezra snapped his eyes open with a gasp, pulling himself from the memory quickly before he could be lost to it. His pulse raced, his heart knocking anxiously against his ribs. Alarm bells reverberated through his body.

No way he could relax now.

Making a quick decision, Ezra sat up and moved to the bunk's ladder, sliding down in a swift motion. He was already reaching for the shoulder of his Lasat roommate, before a sudden nervousness made him hesitate. They hadn't spoken much since the incident. Should he really bother—?

 _No,_ Ezra decided, pressing past his indecision. He couldn't be alone right now. He grabbed Zeb's shoulder.

"Zeb," he called in a whisper, shaking him. "Zeb, wake up!"

"Nngh—what?" Zeb stirred, poking his head up groggily. He blinked, turning over on the bunk, onto his back, squinting up at him. "Ezra?" He yawned. "What is it?" he asked, stretching and rubbing at his eyes.

"I can't sleep," Ezra told him, already relieved to have his friend awake.

Zeb cracked his neck, sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor. "Nightmares?" he guessed.

Ezra shook his head. "No, I just..." He stumbled over his words, gesturing inarticulately with his hands. "I can't... _sleep_ ," he confessed helplessly, his voice strained.

Fully alert now, pinning Ezra with a look of concern, Zeb patted a place on the lower bunk next to him.

"Sit down," he said. "Talk to me."

Ezra did so, gratefully sinking down into the offered seat, legs almost giving out underneath him. He looked down at his hands, which were shaking, trying to collect his thoughts, and Zeb waited patiently for him to speak.

Finally Ezra took a long breath. "It's... it's like my head is buzzing," he explained. "Like I'm hearing echoes, and if I concentrate just a little too long on them..." He paused with a haunted shiver. "I'm back on that ship," he finished softly. He shook his head again, letting it fall into his hands. "I can ignore it during the day but at night there's just... nothing else to think about."

Zeb nodded in understanding. "I know the feeling," he commiserated. At Ezra's look he went on, "Soldiers back on Lasan called it War Fever. After the massacre..." Zeb trailed off uncomfortably, glancing away and coughing. "Anyway, meeting Kanan and Hera helped a lot. Sometimes it's enough to know you're not alone."

Ezra stared between his feet, folding his hands together. "Yeah..." he agreed.

Silence reigned between the two a moment. Zeb looked away from him, at the ground, shame-faced.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

With just the slightest bit of irritation, Ezra huffed, "Zeb, don't."

"If I hadn't convinced Hera—"

"It's _not_ your fault," Ezra interrupted insistently, squaring the Lasat in the eyes, shifting to face him. "Okay? Look, I hogged the most dangerous part of the mission, I took the risk, I paid the price." His shoulders gave a shrug. "We just... got unlucky is all," he dismissed uncomfortably.

Zeb gave a low snarl through his chest. "You didn't deserve it!" he protested. "Any of it. And if I could I'd—"

"Tear Thrawn's head from his shoulders," Ezra finished for him. The boy smiled. "I know you would, Zeb. I know."

A grumble came through the Lasat's throat. Slapping his legs once, Zeb stood to his feet. "Well, at the very least I can help distract you from your thoughts," he said, reaching to grab his bo-rifle from where it leaned against the wall. "C'mon. It's been ages since we've sparred," he urged.

"You think that'll help?" Ezra asked, rising to his feet.

"Couldn't hurt," Zeb said, tossing Ezra's shirt to him from where it draped across the desk.

-SWR-

Zeb was right. There was something comfortingly familiar and relaxing about sparring with the Lasat. The movements of his body, the breath flowing through him, the tinny hum of his saber on training mode, clashing against Zeb's bo-rifle with noisy sparks. It made all the buzzing inside his head fade away into the background, replaced by concentration as he jabbed and thrusted with his saber.

Zeb feinted a strike towards his left side. Ezra saw the ruse for what it was and angled just enough out of the way that he could avoid the strike and still be on guard for the real attack. It came spinning from overhead right; Ezra raised his saber and parried, stretching out his hand to Force Push Zeb once they disconnected.

The Lasat grunted as he stumbled back into a couple of crates. The loud bang caught the attention of a couple technicians working nearby, soldering up the loose wires on a droid, startling them from their late-night work.

Zeb raised an apologetic hand towards them. "Sorry," he called. He pulled himself upright and came over to Ezra, who was standing in place and panting hard from the workout. Zeb put a burly hand on the teen's shoulder. "You all right?"

"Yeah..." Ezra said around breaths. His body was still vibrating from the activity. His joints ached in the pleasant way they did after a good exercise, and he felt almost relaxed.

"Think you can sleep now?" Zeb asked him.

The buzzing and static at the back of his head was starting to creep back, but Ezra shoved it behind his thoughts, feeling exhausted now that the adrenaline rush was tapering off. "I... I think... maybe."

Thick fingers gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Zeb let go and slung the bo-rifle across his back with a smile. "You ever need to clear your head again, you just wake me up, you got it?"

Ezra nodded, grateful. "Yeah. Thanks Zeb," he said, deactivating his saber and hooking it back to his belt.

He followed the Lasat back up the ramp of the _Ghost_ , collapsing into his bunk almost as soon as they'd returned to their room. He heard Zeb settling below him, the creak and groan of the bunk, the air system humming still too much like the IT-O droid, and felt his body wind tight, waiting for the echoes to return.

They were there, but muted, undefined, and after several long minutes of staring up at the ceiling Ezra felt himself finally falling into a tired sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing these back because they were so fun the first time, end of chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. This is Ezra's first or second night back on the Ghost after being released from the Rebels' medbay. So it's been a little over a week and a half since the events of the altered "Through Imperial Eyes".
> 
> 2\. Zeb has likely been witness to Ezra's night terrors many, many times by now. Especially after Malachor. So Ezra having nightmares does not surprise him anymore.
> 
> 3\. This will not be the first of Ezra's sleeping troubles. Oh ho ho no. We're not done with that yet. *grin*


	2. Sleep Aid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too much to say this round. I'll let you get to it.
> 
> Hints of pre-relationship Sabezra because let's face it I'm a sap for them, but they're not _in_ love... _yet_. (That's gonna have to wait for the next story in this series, lol.)

_Clatter!_

Sabine's head jerked up, startled, as several ration canisters spilled off the hoverlift that Ezra was pushing. He tripped over one, stumbled, shaking his head as if jolting himself back to attention, and hastily began to gather them back up.

She put her datapad down on the crate with a frown. Ezra could be uncoordinated at times but this was the third time he'd tripped over his own feet within the past ten minutes. That was clumsy even for him.

Sabine got up from her stool and crossed the landing field over to him.

"You want any help with those?" she asked.

"Nah, I got 'em," he replied, sending her a smile, but Sabine could see that it was tired, pinched, faltering under the heavy bags under his eyes.

She stopped him, grabbing onto one of his wrists. She looked him up and down, noting the wrinkles in his clothes, the worn lines on his face, the slight sway in his balance. Her eyes softened with concern.

"All right, fess up," she demanded, folding her arms over her chest. "Are you getting any sleep at night?"

Ezra grimaced. "Not enough," he answered. His eyes tightened with embarrassment. "You can tell?"

"Ezra, you're practically falling over where you stand," she pointed out, gently exasperated. Her voice dropping quieter, she touched a hand to his arm. "Is it nightmares?" she asked.

He made an uncomfortable half-shrug. "Sometimes. Most of the time it's—" He broke off, his face turning away. Sabine waited for him to continue but he didn't.

"It's... what?" she prompted after a moment.

"Nothing. I'm fine," he insisted, suddenly closed off, shrugging off her hand, his own gripping the handlebar of the hoverlift and nudging it in the other direction.

"Ezra..." Sabine sighed.

He stopped trying to roll the lift away, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. He turned back to her, expression sober.

"You know that place, right between waking and sleeping? When you relax and your thoughts start to get fuzzy and confused and you're sort of half-dreaming but not really asleep yet?" he explained.

Sabine nodded.

Ezra took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I hate... I hate feeling that," he said. He shook his head. "I can't sleep unless I'm out right away. It just..." His voice dropped almost to a whisper, quiet and wavering. "It feels like it did when I was drugged."

Sabine's heart panged with concern, recalling the haze Ezra had seemed to be coming out of when she'd first been able to see him after the incident, recalling Dr. Leslynn's muttered grumble about the excessive amount of serums and toxins in his bloodstream. It had taken a full day and a half for everything to purge from his system. He'd been mostly coherent, at least with her, but ever so slightly... off. She could only imagine how much worse it must have been with the full force of the drugs running through him.

"Is that why you've been working yourself so hard?" she asked.

"Trying to exhaust myself." Ezra nodded. "Yeah."

Sabine stepped back, both hands fisting on her hips. "Well you can't keep going like this," she told him. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack. If you don't collapse from sleep deprivation first." Concern took over again, beaming from her eyes. "Isn't there something else that works?"

Ezra thought for a moment, then replied, "Smells."

"Smells?" Sabine repeated.

"Familiar ones. Un-Imperial smells," Ezra clarified. "Hera's spicy caf. The jungle. Zeb."

That last one made her raise an amused eyebrow. "Really?" she asked.

Ezra grinned cheekily. "Yeah turns out Lasat stink is pretty soothing." He turned his head slightly, coughing awkwardly into his fist and muttering his next words as if they embarrassed him. "Your paint works pretty good too," he said.

Sabine's mouth twisted. "I hope you haven't been huffing my paint for a sleep aid," she said, vaguely alarmed.

"Just a little," he kidded. He took hold of the handlebars of the lift again. "I'll be all right, Sabine. I just need to finish putting these away and then I'll sit down, I promise."

"I'll come with you," Sabine volunteered. She cracked a smile as she moved up next to him, brushing arms as she grasped one of the handles. "Make sure you don't swoon over the ration bars," she teased.

Ezra rolled his eyes, but allowed her to help him, pushing the hoverlift along to its destination.

-SWR-

She watched him carefully the rest of the day, not always right next to him, but never straying too far, keeping him within her sights. Ezra didn't push himself, making sure to take breaks between tasks, but he didn't stop working either. Every time Sabine saw him beginning to nod off, beginning to close his eyes and slump in place, he would start, shake himself, and get up to do something else, busy himself with another job. Sabine's frown grew deeper and deeper, but she kept her distance, tried to give him space to take care of himself on his own.

She should have remembered how stubborn he could be.

Dusk fell and night came and hours later he was still up, moving around the base as if afraid to stay in one place. He was barely coordinated and every movement was sluggish, but he _still_ refused to return to the _Ghost_.

When she caught him spilling fuel around the top of the canister he was filling, she'd had enough.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, striding under and past X-wings to go grab him by the wrist. "All right Ezra, _enough_ ," she told him sternly.

He stumbled, dropping the refuel hose as he was yanked the other direction. "Wha—? Sabine?" came his befuddled response.

"Back to the _Ghost_. Now. No negotiations," Sabine ordered.

"But—" Ezra protested weakly as she dragged him along.

-SWR-

Zeb had only been settled in for a few minutes when his ears pricked up, catching the sound of Sabine and Ezra's voices coming down the hall.

He craned his head up from the bed, listening. The two teens appeared to be having an argument. Their voices grew clearer as they rounded the doorframe, Sabine striding in purposefully and leading an awkwardly embarrassed Ezra by the wrist.

He tugged weakly on her grip, expression flustered. "Sabine I don't think—"

"You said the smell of my paint helps relax you," she interrupted. She released his wrist, gesturing towards the bunks. "I figure this is safer than letting you sniff my aerosol cans."

His face wrinkled. He made no move towards the ladder.

"Are you sure about—?" he tried to protest.

Sabine stopped him with a pair of firm hands on his shoulders. "Ezra, you _need_ ," she emphasized, "to sleep." She turned him to face the bunks with a small push. "And I'm going to make sure you do even if I have to handcuff us together," she warned him.

Ezra looked reluctantly one last time towards his bunk before giving in with a sigh and moving to climb up the ladder.

Vaguely amused, Zeb sat up. "What's this now?" he asked as he stood.

"Ezra's been having sleep troubles," Sabine explained, sounding almost offended by the fact.

"'kay. I knew that part," Zeb nodded. "But why are you here?"

Sabine started ascending the ladder herself, looking back over her shoulder to reply. "Sensory input. I'm helping him relax and keep his mind grounded."

Zeb raised an eyebrow. "By getting in the bed with him?"

From on the bunk Ezra turned to appeal to his roommate, mortified and pleading. "Zeb, please tell her I don't need this," he begged.

"I dunno, kid," Zeb mused, stroking his beard as he took in Ezra's haggard condition. "Ya look awful. I think a good night's sleep'll do you wonders." More seriously, eyes narrowing with just a little bit of disapproval, he added, "An' I thought I told you to wake me up if you needed help settling down."

Ezra dropped his eyes uncomfortably, mumbling towards the floor. "I didn't want to bother you."

Zeb sighed in aggravation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid... You know that doesn't help anything."

The boy made a sound of frustration as he looked up again, trembling. "Zeb I don't... I can't..."

Soft hands found their way to his shoulders again as Sabine turned him towards her, looking him square in the face. " _Please_ Ezra," she said. Her eyes radiated worry. "I can't watch you falling over from exhaustion. I know you're afraid. But I'm here for you. We both are. _Please_ just sleep," she begged. "For me."

Ezra quietly absorbed her words. She could feel tension in his shoulders and could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He was still trembling, ever so slightly.

But finally he gave a shaky exhale.

"...Okay," he said quietly. He shifted backwards on the bunk, moving self-consciously, eyes averted. "Um... go ahead and make yourself comfortable then."

Sabine settled herself down next to him carefully, trying not to make it too awkward. Her arms reached out, wrapped around his head and shoulders. The warmth of her body seeped into him through their contact. Ezra's heart thudded loudly in his chest, drowning out the ringing static in the back of his head that he'd been dreading to face all day. He was glad the darkness masked the flush on his face.

She moved a fraction closer, adjusting her hip so the blaster on her belt wouldn't poke her. She felt Ezra trying to release the anxiety in his limbs, and moved a hand around behind his back encouragingly.

Zeb watched them both with a puzzled stare.

"...Does Kanan know you're trying out this kind of 'therapy'?" he asked.

Sabine blanched a moment.

"Kanan's on a supply run mission for the next two weeks," she heard herself sputtering out nervously. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Zeb chuckled.

Sabine scowled, brows narrowing furiously. " _Seriously_ Zeb, don't you _dare_ breathe a _word_ of this," she hissed.

"My lips are sealed," he promised, swiveling around and climbing back into his own bunk.

Metal creaked and groaned and then fell silent.

Sabine focused back on Ezra. His blue eyes looked straight ahead into hers, wavering. The tension she felt in his back was beginning to loosen, but he was still shaking.

She offered up a smile. "It's okay. Remember, I'm right here," she told him softly.

"Mmm." He adjusted an arm, shifting his head on the mattress as he tried to settle.

He focused on breathing, on listening to the ambient sounds of the ship. The quiet. Sabine's gentle embrace. Her warmth.

He inhaled slowly.

Paint.

He breathed out in relief, relaxing. Slowly, his eyes drifted closed. The warmth and the safe, chemical fragrance enveloped him like a soft blanket. It was... soothing. He felt... like he could...

Sabine kept him cradled to her breastplate until she heard the steady rise and fall of his chest. His breathing grew deeper and deeper, settling into a soft pattern. Only then did she let out her own tensions.

He was asleep, finally. Thank the stars.

She supposed, technically, that she could get up now, get down from the bunk and let him be, but she wasn't about to move. Ezra needed this, he needed _her_ , and she was determined to be there with him until morning.

It was the least she could do.

"I'm sorry," she whispered at his sleeping face. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. But I'm here now."

She pressed his forehead into her collar, holding on tightly.

"I'm here now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. Ezra has graduated from not being able to sleep to actively avoiding going to sleep. He's definitely gonna be an insomniac before the end of this, lol.
> 
> 2\. Dr. Leslynn in a OC Rebel medic who appeared before in "Cracks In The Mirror". She'll feature again a couple times and be mentioned here and there by other characters.
> 
> 3\. As it turns out, Zeb is not the only one who partially blames themselves for what happened to Ezra. Sabine, too, has some Strong Feelings about that. (Insert however many shippy jokes you please.)


	3. Disclose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again dear readers!
> 
> Let's get right to it, shall we?

Sabine slept in the bunk with him for two more nights before she was called away to Krownest by an urgent message from her mother. Zeb took up her place for the rest of the week, having Ezra curl up in the lower bunk with him a couple nights, before Ezra insisted on having a bed to himself again.

He had wanted to protest more, feeling _mothered_ by their worry, feeling like a kid who had to crawl into his parents' bed during a thunderstorm. In spite of how embarrassed it made him feel, though, he couldn't say no to Sabine and he couldn't argue with the results. He'd slept better in the past week than he'd ever slept the first few days he'd been released from the medbay back to the _Ghost._

The effect vanished almost immediately upon his return to sleeping alone. His nights were once again restless, sleep eluding him for long hours as he tossed and turned.

He didn't always wake Zeb, but when he did, Zeb offered plenty of suggestions.

Chief among them was talking to Kanan.

"How's that gonna help any more than talking to you?" Ezra had groaned.

Zeb had shrugged. "You're his padawan. Worrying about you is kind of his job, isn't it? If nothing else he's a good listener."

He had a point. But Ezra didn't want to talk about it, not to Kanan, not yet.

He just needed some time, that was all. Leslynn said his body was still recovering. Still healing up. If he gave it a few more weeks, the sleepless nights and anxious thoughts would stop and he'd be back to normal.

No need to worry Kanan over something that was going to go away, right?

It _would_ go away. It would.

He hoped.

-SWR-

"Okay, now flex."

Ezra breathed in slowly, curling his arm, squeezing the ball-shaped metal sensor in his palm.

Dr. Leslynn stood behind him, her hands gentle on his arm and shoulder, fingertips prodding, feeling how the muscles moved. "Good. Good. Very good," she said absently, checking the data readings on her datapad.

She had him hold position for about thirty seconds, then she straightened and stepped back.

"All right, you can relax," she told him.

Ezra did so, feeling an achy relief pool through his arm. He set the sensor down on the nearby tray and worked the kinks out of his fist.

He waited while Leslynn looked over her readings, his eyes wandering around the room. A medical droid worked methodically in the corner, cleaning off some equipment. There was a clean, sort of antiseptic smell in the air. He caught sight of a row of empty syringes laid out on a tray and flinched, immediately looking elsewhere. Leslynn hadn't had to take any blood samples in a while but...

He stirred as Leslynn cupped her datapad to her side, smiling brightly. "Okay, well, good news! Looks like you've regained about 90% of full muscle functionality," she said.

He nodded. That _was_ good to hear, at least. He'd hated how much weaker he'd felt in the weeks following his capture.

"Blood pressure looks normal, scans aren't showing any signs of new tissue damage," Leslynn was reciting as she made a few notes on a piece of durasheet clipped to a wooden board.

"So am I cleared to start going on missions again?" Ezra asked, trying not to sound too impatient. His hands fidgeted, tapping the edge of the examination table.

Dr. Leslynn didn't look up yet. "Mmm, that depends," she said. "Do you have any new or worsening symptoms?"

Ezra stopped tapping. He bit the inside of his cheek, hesitating, reluctant. The words formed and reformed inside his head.

He was quiet so long it made Leslynn look up in concern.

"Ezra?" she called.

Finally, Ezra found his voice. The words pulled out of him slowly, every instinct inside him wanting to hold them back.

"There's this... sort of... _buzzing_... in my head," he explained.

Leslynn angled to face him. "What's it sound like?"

He grimaced. "It's not really a sound, it's more like..." The words to articulate the kind of feeling wouldn't come, and he gave a frustrated groan, throwing up a hand. "Ugh, I dunno."

The doctor's expression flattened. She set aside her clipboard and datapad, grabbing up a small pen light, which she flashed in Ezra's eyes.

"Any pain?" she asked.

"No."

She held up a finger and watched Ezra's eyes track it as she moved her hand back and forth. "Vision changes?"

He shook his head.

Leslynn frowned, stepping back and checking her datapad readings over again. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she sighed, already dreading the upcoming conversation.

"Well, there's nothing _physically_ wrong with you," she told him. A look of pity settled onto her face. "I'm afraid it's probably mental."

"So I'm a headcase." Ezra's shoulders slumped. "Great."

Leslynn chewed on her lip as she looked at him. He stared down at the floor, dejected. Like the light inside him had dimmed.

She set aside her datapad.

"I'm not much of a psychologist," she said, tone apologetic. She sat down next to him on the examination table, reaching to hold his wrist. "But I do know it can be hard to... _adjust_ after a particularly unsettling experience."

Ezra gave a tired exhale. He'd known this talk was coming the moment he'd opened his mouth, but that didn't make facing it any easier. He was silent a moment longer, stalling, trying to delay the inevitable.

A tick or two passed.

"So how _are_ you feeling?" Leslynn prompted gently.

Tired. Anxious. " _Frustrated_ ," he decided upon. "I can't relax. I can't... I'm always jittery and tense. Like there's something wound tight inside me that I can't shake loose." He didn't look up at her as he spoke, heat crawling across his face, making him hot with shame. "It feels like there's this constant comm static in my brain. Like I'm hearing something just soft enough that I can't ignore it, but I can't make out what it is. It's hard to concentrate."

"And your physical symptoms?"

He gave a shrug. "Trouble sleeping. Bad dreams. Cold all the time. Tightness in my chest." His hands began to curl into fists on his legs. "Hands keep shaking."

She squeezed his wrist, feeling the slight tremble in his hands for herself. "Well, first off I want you to know that what you're feeling is perfectly normal," she told him.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better," Ezra said dryly, earning a smile from the doctor.

"I know," she said. "I'm afraid only time and a good support system can make your symptoms fade. I know that could be difficult to find in the middle of a rebellion, but you need to know that you aren't alone. A lot of people here go through exactly the same thing." She thought through the list of her patients, seeing their names and faces. "Especially after being held by the Empire."

"Kanan was tortured," Ezra pointed out, saying bluntly the word she was trying to euphemise around. "And he was just fine afterwards."

She pursed her lips. "I wouldn't be so certain of that," she muttered. "And anyway, people react differently to trauma," she told him, speaking a little louder. Her eyes were full of sympathy. "From what Captain Kallus told me, you were subjected to a particularly intense form of interrogation."

"But I don't even _remember_ half of it!" Ezra groaned, pulling his wrist from her hand. He pressed his palms to his eyes in aggravation, slumping over with exhaustion.

"Maybe not consciously." Leslynn placed a hand on his shoulder. "But it was a trauma nonetheless. You need time to heal from it, same as with any other kind of injury."

"So I guess you're not clearing me for duty then?" Ezra guessed, sounding absolutely miserable about it.

She thought a moment. "We'll give it a week or two," she promised. "I want to let you have some space away from the fighting, for a little bit." Away from mortal perils and further traumatizing experiences, was her unspoken actual thought. "Then I'll clear you." She turned to her tray, beginning to stack her tools and put things away. "You'll let me know if your symptoms get worse?"

Ezra looked up from his hands, smiling in relief. "Sure, Doc," he told her.

But as he hopped down from the examination table and headed into the dank tunnels that made up the underground labyrinth of the Rebel base... he couldn't help but feel like he'd been lying to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I be with the chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. There Are No Therapists, but Leslynn tries her best dammit. I wanted there to be a distinct difference between the methodology of the Empire versus that of the Rebellion when it came to handling traumatized fighters. So whereas the Empire will just make sure you're physically fit and then send you on your way (something I mentioned briefly in "Cracks In The Mirror" via Kallus), the Rebellion will at least attempt to encourage you to chill for a bit and heal up and talk to people. It doesn't always work, since the Rebellion is full of martyrs and workaholics with hero complexes who constantly put their own traumas aside on a shelf for the sake of the mission but hey, they at least try.
> 
> 2\. I could not for the life of me remember what the normal Star Wars equivalent of paper was. Eventually remembered it but not before getting lost in the bowels of Wookiepedia. (Wikis will eat your time up like nothing, believe me.)
> 
> 3\. Ezra's avoidance issues multiply. Seems like he's also developing a particular aversion to needles. Boy oh boy have we got things to look forward to on that! :D


	4. Pinpricks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who are squeamish about needles might want to skip the opening sequence.

_A needle stabbed into his arm. Ezra felt a heaviness spreading through his body, weighing him down._

_"No..." he moaned, fighting against the feeling. How much more sedative could they give him? There had to be dozens of empty tubes on the tray already._

Was _it all sedative? came his anxious thought. Or were they putting more poison in him this time?_

_He couldn't tell the difference anymore._

_Pryce's face drifted into view. Her again. It was always her. The other Imperials blended into a faceless mass. She had yet another syringe in her hand and was sliding the tip of it down his cheek, the needle scraping against his skin._

_His chest tightened, coiling with fear._

_"Do you want this to end, Bridger?" Pryce was taunting. "Just tell me one little thing. Just one thing that I want to know, and I promise." The needle's touch was like an awful caress, deceptively gentle. "It all goes away."_

_He couldn't even remember anything she'd asked him. He searched through the slog of his thoughts, trying to recall something, anything._

_Pryce drew the syringe back, her hand tightening around it like a knife._

_The panic squeezed his windpipe._

_"Don'_ _—"_

_The syringe swung down in a harsh stab._

-SWR-

Ezra jolted awake with a sharp hiss. He lay frozen in place for several moments. The hum above him made him terrified to look up, until he remembered where he was.

It was the _Ghost._ Not the _Chimaera._ Sabine's painting of him falling onto Zeb was on the wall. The thrumming was the air filtration system. He was home.

He was _safe._

It still took a long minute for the tension in his body to seep away.

Ezra sat up, hanging his feet over the side of the bunk, head slumping over, hands fisting at the back of his hair.

His nightmares were getting worse. They were more vivid. He woke up _feeling_ the pain from the electrodes, the paralysis from the sedatives and the metal restraints. It took longer for him to calm down out of panic mode upon awaking.

It hadn't been this bad since Malachor and Ezra was beginning to prefer the weeks of hollow guilt and night terrors about red-bladed Sith to this constant reliving of his torture on the _Chimaera._

His hands slid around, smearing down his face, as he recalled the details of his dream. His shoulder gave a phantom throb, remembering Pryce jamming in the needle.

That hadn't happened, he was pretty sure. Not how it had in the dream. He knew Pryce had stuck him dozens of times and recalled with uncomfortable clarity her taunt and her teasing his face with yet another needle, but slamming the syringe into his chest like a bladed weapon was an invention of the dream.

At least... he _thought_ it was.

Ezra groaned softly. His memories of the event were murky enough as it was without his brain wholecloth making up new bits to add to the mess.

His nerves were vibrating. His feet twitched, agitated. He already knew he couldn't get back to sleep. If Zeb were there he could've maybe woken him but the Lasat had been called away on his own mission. Ezra already desperately missed his stench.

That left Sabine—who had apparently begged her mother to let her return home and who Ezra still couldn't look at straight—Hera—who Ezra hadn't seen since before being released from the medbay and who was already exhausted from an all-nighter sortie on the blockade around Lothal—and...

Ezra's chest tightened. A million excuses were already bombarding his head. The ship seemed suddenly far too small, the cabin confining. The walls separating his room from Kanan's felt paper thin.

_No,_ he thought quickly. _I just... I need some air, is all._

Before he could second-guess himself he was jumping down from the bunk, tramping down the hallway to the cockpit, sliding down the ladder, slamming the button for the ramp, and running out into the night.

-SWR-

In the end, Ezra wound up wandering the base for an hour, helping out with small tasks where he could, before returning to the landing field and finding a quiet spot to sit.

The thought of returning to the _Ghost_ still sent a twinge of nausea passing through his stomach.

He attempted to meditate.

_Focus,_ Kanan's instruction repeated in his head like a mantra. _Find your center._

He concentrated on breathing. Slow inhale in, steady exhale out. Air moving through him. He searched for that place of tranquility where the Force melded around him, fading out all sound and sensation until there was nothing but peace.

He struggled for a long time, finally opening his eyes with a groan.

The early morning air nipped at him, chilly, and he curled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them with a little shiver.

Kanan found him there hours later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting to the good stuff now, readers!
> 
> 1\. I love Pryce, she's such a bitch. And I was ever-so-delighted that my characterization of her being "hands on" and creepily intimate for Imperial interrogations was shown to be completely accurate. (As per "Jedi Night".) I win for canon compliance again!
> 
> 2\. If you recall from "Cracks In The Mirror", the method they used to torture Ezra kind of fried his brains a little. So his subconscious "helpfully" decides to fill in the blanks for him during his dreams.
> 
> 3\. I realized that I've been spelling the name of Thrawn's ship wrong this whole time and of course had to go back and fix every instance of it in both this and "Cracks In The Mirror". My bad.
> 
> Next chapter is one I'm really excited for.


	5. Console

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long-overdue Kanan and Ezra talk!
> 
> This was one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope you all enjoy it too!

Ezra's presence in the Force was turbulent, a quiet storm of fear and anxiety. Kanan could almost pinpoint his location from that alone.

He walked up behind the boy, careful to give him plenty of time to notice his approaching footsteps.

Despite his caution he still heard Ezra startle, scraping the ground as he shifted position, scrambling to his feet.

"Kanan! I—" he started to say.

Kanan raised a hand. "Don't get up," he told Ezra. "I'll join you."

He moved to take a kneeling position next to his padawan. Ezra's feet were moving anxiously, shifting his weight back and forth with indecision. Kanan could feel his nervous energy, pulsing through the Force.

"Actually I needed to... um..." Ezra stammered. An awkward pause followed. Apparently failing to find a convincing excuse, he sat back down with a soft rustle. "Never mind," he sighed.

They sat in silence for a while. Ezra fidgeted as Kanan faced towards the jungle.

The Jedi breathed in the warm, damp air, letting it clear his mind. The stillness of the Force came easily to him, and he used it to wrap an aura of calm around Ezra, trying to put him more at ease.

Gradually, Ezra's fidgeting grew quieter until he finally stilled, arms draping over his knees.

Kanan gave him a couple more moments. Then:

"I understand you've been having trouble sleeping," he commented casually.

The sound of a tired exhale. Kanan could picture him hanging his head between his legs, raising it back up, leaning his chin on his forearms. "Zeb and Sabine tell you?" Ezra guessed, wearily.

"Didn't have to." Kanan tapped the side of his head with a finger. "Force Bond, remember?" It would have been impossible for him to miss the disturbance Ezra made in the Force, his mess of chaotic emotions. Ezra had been trying to shield it, but Kanan could feel it projecting out past his walls every time the boy walked past. It ached him to know how much his padawan was struggling.

Kanan softened his eyes and voice.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked.

"What's there to talk about?" Ezra said bitterly. "There was a mission, it went bad, I got hurt. That's all there is to it."

Kanan frowned. "Are you sure that's all there is?" he pressed.

"Kanan, I'm fine," Ezra said, exasperated. "You don't need to worry about..." A slight waft in the air told Kanan the boy was gesturing inarticulately with his hand. "...this," he finished.

Kanan turned his head to face him, sightless eyes full of concern.

"Ezra..."

The boy was silent a long time, but Kanan could feel the conflict within him. He waited in tense anticipation, quietly praying the boy would be open with him.

_Talk to me_ , he urged inside his own mind. _Don't shut me out._

For several agonizing moments, there was only the distant clamor of the base and the whisper of the wind in the trees.

When Ezra finally spoke, his voice was soft and strained.

"I don't... know what's _wrong_ with me," he said.

His voice trembled, and Kanan heard his hands moving up into his hair and grabbing chunkfuls tightly.

"I can't sleep," Ezra went on. "When I do sleep I get nightmares. I startle at everything. Everything reminds of that ship. Stupid little things like... like the sound the _Ghost_ 's life support makes or... electric tools buzzing." His head shook. "My thoughts keep racing. I start... shaking all over. It gets so bad I can't breathe. I don't... I don't feel _safe_ anymore, Kanan," he confessed, his voice wavering.

Kanan's heart wrenched and all he could offer was a somber, "I'm sorry."

"And that's another thing!" Ezra burst out, unexpectedly angry. "I'm tired of people _saying_ that to me, like—like it's their fault it happened!" Displaced air and clothing rustles signified Ezra's agitated arm gestures. "It's not your fault, or Hera's fault, or Zeb's, or anyone's! It's my—it just _happened_ , okay?" he covered quickly. His arms returned to holding his legs tightly. "It just... _happened_ ," he said into his knees.

"Ezra..." Kanan called, eyes pinching, focusing in on Ezra's verbal slip with no small amount of alarm. "Do you think it's _your_ —"

"I don't know!" Ezra yelled, interrupting him. "I'm just... _tired_ of it all. Okay? I just want to feel _normal_ again." His next words were slightly muffled, like he was covering his face with his hands. "Why can't I just get over this?" he said.

Hearing the strain in his padawan's voice, the exhaustion, the weariness... Kanan once again cursed that he hadn't been there when Ezra was first released from the medbay. That he hadn't approached Ezra sooner.

He sat there absorbing Ezra's words and his emotions through the Force, carefully constructing his next words. When he thought they were ready, he felt out for Ezra's shoulder, gripping it tightly once he found it.

"First of all, Ezra, there's nothing _wrong_ with you," he insisted. "You're having a perfectly natural, logical reaction to what happened, what they did to you."

Ezra snorted softly. "Yeah, that's what Dr. Leslynn said too."

Kanan let a faint smile pass over his lips. "Second, this... this kind of thing isn't something you just 'get over'. It takes time," he continued, a bit more gently. "And even then, sometimes it doesn't ever fully go away."

He let the implications hang there, for Ezra to catch them.

Ezra tilted his head. "You?" he guessed, accurately.

Kanan nodded. "Not every night, but often enough." A self-deprecating expression settled onto his face. "Not just my time as a guest of Tarkin's but other things... Things from the war, from before I met Hera."

"You never told me."

He shrugged. "Just never got around to it, I guess." He let go of Ezra's shoulder, shifting position, bringing his legs out from underneath him. "Everything was such a whirlwind after Mustafar, with us joining the larger Rebellion, and Hera teaching you how to fly, and you and Sabine taking on more responsibility in missions. You already had so much to think about. I didn't think I should burden you with my problems too." He gave a groaning sigh, realizing how hypocritical he was about to sound. "And... I didn't want you to worry," he said.

Ezra chuckled. "Sounds familiar."

Like master, like stubborn padawan.

Kanan smiled warmly. "You and I both try so hard to be strong for everyone. Sometimes it's hard for us to let our guards down and be vulnerable," he said, reaching over to touch Ezra's cheek. "But if talking about what happened to me helps you..." He gave another shrug. "I think I can get over myself."

Ezra seemed to think for a moment, processing Kanan's offer. Kanan gave him space, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to know.

"What was—" Ezra started abruptly, then stopped. "Did they—" he tried again. He struggled to form a complete thought. His voice dropped, going quieter. "Can... can you tell me something about it?" he asked.

Kanan's gaze grew distant as he thought for a moment. Behind them, a droid rolled by, warbling, and two or three X-wings took off from the landing pad. Ezra waited, listening intently.

"The worst part wasn't actually the pain," Kanan said. He looked towards Ezra, all serious. "The worst part was when the Inquisitor showed me things. Images he planted in my mind. Visions of him... _hurting_ you." Kanan squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head. Phantom pain crawled through his chest at the memories. "I don't know how many times I watched you die... watched him kill you. When you fell off the causeway, I thought... one of those visions was finally coming true."

He looked back up at Ezra with a smile.

"I'm glad it didn't."

Warmth passed through the bond, Ezra sharing the sentiment. It cooled as Ezra drifted off into his own memories. He was quiet a second or two. Then—

"I started... sometimes I welcomed the pain," he admitted, quietly. One hand curled tightly around his forearm. "They drugged me up so much I barely knew what I was saying, so... when the pain started again I knew... they hadn't gotten any answers." The breaths between his words were tightening. Kanan heard his voice hitch, sensed Ezra's trembling emotions in the Force. "I was... I was almost _relieved_ ," Ezra strained.

There was a sound from him like a choked sob. Kanan was reaching for him at once, thumbs finding the tear tracks on his cheeks as both hands took hold of Ezra's face.

"Hey. _Hey_. It's okay," he told the boy, leaning in until their foreheads were almost touching. "You don't have to be alone this time," he promised. This wouldn't be like Malachor. This time, Kanan wouldn't leave his padawan to flounder, lost and confused and hurting.

Ezra was furiously wiping away his tears, smearing his hands underneath his eyes. "I know. I _know_ I don't, I just..." The emotion clogged his throat and he couldn't say any more. He swallowed thickly. "I _hate_ this," he whispered.

Kanan urged Ezra into him for a hug. "C'mere." His arms wrapped tight around the shaking teen, tucking the boy's head under his chin. "I'm right here, Ezra," he said softly. "We'll get through this together." Assurance rolled out of him through the Force. "I promise."

Against his chest, he felt Ezra's stuttering inhale and then... his faint smile.

"Yes master," he said.

Kanan clung on to him a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter noooootes!
> 
> 1\. Kanan's POV post-Malachor is always kind of a fun challenge to do. I like figuring out how to describe things with different senses.
> 
> 2\. Ezra's trauma triggers are starting to emerge! Namely: needles (as mentioned per the last two chapters), and certain auditory cues that sound a little too close to the IT-O droid and the electrical torture he was subjected to. More to be developed on that end later.
> 
> 3\. Oh and Ezra's massive "Everything is all my fault." guilt complex is showing up to absorb this latest calamity into the list of things he blames himself for too. That will also be revisited in upcoming chapters.
> 
> 4\. I never minded that Kanan didn't get a recovery arc after Season One (plot gotta happen, can't waste time lingering on the healing process, kid's show, that's what fanfiction is for, all that jazz), but I also figured it was always there, just hovering in the background and under the subtext. So of course I brought it out into the open for an excuse for Space Dad-Space Son bonding. :)
> 
> Some relief for Ezra this chapter! We'll see how long that lasts, mwah-ha-ha.


	6. Debriefing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last we are finally getting to see Kallus again! Cripes I missed writing for him.
> 
> This chapter pretty much follows on the previous one's heels. So it's a bit later that same morning, after Kanan and Ezra's little heart to heart. To give you a bit of the timescale there.

"And no matter how many times I tell him not to, Ensign Jin continues to pilfer ration bars from the food stores every time we resupply them!" Kallus complained. "I'm about ready to find a switch to smack his hands with."

Ezra chuckled, shadowing Kallus's shoulder as they crossed the hanger. Technicians and pilots bustled about, filling the underground space with a chaotic mishmash of noise.

"Yeah, Jonner's a bit of a hoarder when it comes to food," he told Kallus. "Don't be too hard on him; I think he's still not used to having regular meals. I used to be the same way. Hera's probably still finding hidden stashes in the nooks and crannies of the _Ghost,_ " he quipped.

"He hardly looks the starving type," Kallus grumbled.

"Hey, you can't judge that just based on looks," Ezra defended. At Kallus's skeptical look he amended, "Okay so it was obvious with me, but there's no reason to think Jonner isn't a little food anxious too."

Kallus gave up with a sigh. "I suppose you _would_ be more qualified to make that diagnosis."

"How did you even wind up in charge of those three anyway?" Ezra asked. "I mean I know I've been out of the action for a while but—"

The former ISB agent was rubbing his face tiredly. "Don't ask me, I don't—I don't even know. Senator Mothma just mentioned something about Ensign Terez saying I had good advice and the next thing I knew I'm assigned to a band of wild unruly teenagers and expected to whip them into trained and disciplined Rebels." His face soured. "I think she thinks it's funny."

Ezra grinned. "She's not wrong about that."

"It's also a gross misuse of my skills and talents."

The boy shrugged. "Well you know, if for some reason it turns out you've been a double-agent all this time—not saying you are—" he put in quickly, seeing the stung expression on Kallus's face, "—you'll do a lot less damage if you're running around after a bunch of kids. Or, you know," he added, more optimistically, "it could mean she trusts you a lot." Something in his expression sobered. "Speaking of, though, how's Mart? I mean... is he holding up okay?"

"I honestly haven't seen much of the boy. I think he's—"

A loud bang sounded across the hanger as something heavy dropped.

Ezra jumped out of his skin, startling with a violent flinch. Kallus glanced his way to find that the boy was tight with tension, his eyes wide and fixated in the direction the sound had come from. He didn't seem to be breathing.

Kallus's eyes furrowed in concern. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Stirring from his spell, Ezra gave an exhale. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just—" He shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. "It's nothing."

The frown on Kallus's face deepened. "If you're not feeling well—"

"I'm _fine_ , Kallus," Ezra insisted, irritably.

He clearly wasn't, but Kallus knew better than to press the issue. Bridger would talk to him if he felt comfortable doing so.

...He might mention something to Captain Syndulla though.

"Ezra?"

Speaking of...

Both of them turned to see Hera crossing the hanger towards them. Relief and delight shone from her as she immediately came up to Ezra, hands reaching to cup his face.

"Oh my goodness! I didn't know you'd been released!" She touched his cheeks and shoulders, looking him over, amazed at how much better he seemed from the last time she'd been able to visit the medbay. "It feels like forever since I've seen you!" She smiled warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Hey Hera," Ezra said, easing up at the sight of her. "I'm good, I'm good." The grin he gave her was more relaxed and genuine than Kallus had seen in a while. "Eager to get back into the saddle," he told her.

Hera thumped his back affectionately, standing back. "Well, you might get your chance." She tilted her head, her lekku swinging gently. "Senator Mothma wants to see you."

His smile dimmed. "O-Oh... Okay."

"I can't stay long; they've got me burning the hyperfuel at both ends." Before she left them she reached in, pressing a motherly kiss to Ezra's temple, to which he stiffened and made a face.

"Heraaaa..." he complained.

"It's good to see you," she told him softly as she pulled back.

And with that, she was off again, lekku trailing behind her.

Kallus watched her go, seeing her disappear past a pair of docked Y-wings, then turned a concerned look on Ezra. The boy was hesitating, standing in place and making no move to go, expression uncertain. His hands were twitching as if he wanted to clench them.

"Would you like someone to accompany you?" he offered.

Ezra released a breath. "That... would be appreciated," he said, uncurling with relief. "Especially since I don't actually know where I'm going," he added with chagrin, embarrassed.

Kallus chuckled shortly. "It's this way," he indicated, taking the lead.

-SWR-

Ezra wasn't quite sure what to expect when he stepped through the doorway into the briefing room. Kallus steered him to a central holodisplay, where several important-looking members of the Rebellion were gathered, leaned in looking over the readouts and conferring in urgent voices.

He recognized Bail Organa, the senator from Alderaan. An older, gray-bearded man must have been General Dodonna. There was a woman in-between them, red-haired and clad in white, intense eyes focused on her conference. Those eyes glanced up when she noticed his approach, and she uttered a short, "Excuse me a moment." before turning from the holodisplay to face him.

Ezra came to a stop, slightly awed. He didn't quite know what to do with his hands, which fidgeted softly by his sides.

Mon Mothma clasped hers behind her and addressed him with an air of formal grace.

"Lieutenant Commander Bridger." She nodded to acknowledge him, a smile playing at her lips. "It's nice to finally meet you. Captain Syndulla speaks very highly of you."

Ezra reached up a hand to touch the back of his neck with a small, quite improper giggle. "She uh... she does huh?" he said, his eyes down bashfully.

"Focus," Kallus grouched from behind him.

He snapped up straight, eyes widening and jerking his hand back down to his side. "Right!" Hands fisting he bent forward in a short, stiff bow. "Senator." As he straightened the stiffness eased out of him. "I uh, saw a recording of your speech to the Senate. Pretty bold words."

The woman's smile turned rueful. "I only wish I'd said them sooner," she said. "The loss of Atollon was a hard blow to morale." She waved a hand to indicate the gathered Rebel company. "I made a call for the disparate Rebel cells to stand together above Dantooine." Her hand lowered again solemnly. "Less than half of who I'd hoped for answered."

Ezra swallowed down a swell of bile and guilt. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his chin dropping.

"Don't be." The soft admonition made him look back up. Mon Mothma's expression reminded him of Hera—tired, but warm and optimistic. Her eyes shone with it, and the upturned corners of her mouth. "It just means a little more work to persuade people to our cause," she said. Her hands returned to being clasped behind her. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"I'm... not sure I follow," Ezra confessed, his eyes wrinkling.

"I'm told you withstood several rounds of the Brisney-Favvin Method," Mon Mothma said, paying a brief glance at Kallus.

Ezra shrugged. "I guess. I didn't exactly ask."

"I've already read Captain Kallus's report, but I wanted to confirm it from you." Her face softened before she made her request. "Can you describe the procedure they used? If you're comfortable, that is," she added quickly.

A nervous flutter passed through Ezra's stomach. He became hypersensitively aware of several pairs of eyes on him. Kallus's gaze in particular was heavy with concern. Ezra's fingers wrung together by his sides. The static that hovered constantly at the back of his head seemed to grow a fraction louder. He didn't really want to reach back and touch it. But Senator Mothma was waiting patiently, so he forced his discomfort down.

 _I don't have to go into detail_ , he thought. A surface description would be enough.

Steeling himself, he began to speak.

"They drugged me," he said. "A lot of truth serum, sedatives, and some other things later." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what. One of them burned," he remembered. "They kept me under pretty much the whole time. And in-between asking questions they shocked me."

Mon Mothma listened with a pensive expression. "At random or in a repeating cycle?" she asked.

"Repeating cycle."

She nodded sagely, giving a sigh. "That's all the classic trappings of the Brisney-Favvin, then. The Senate banned the use of the procedure years ago." Her head straightened, a trace of anger in her voice. "I'm disappointed, but not surprised, that the sanctions are being ignored."

Something had occurred to him. Ezra's eyes squinted, then widened a bit. "Wait, are... are you gonna reveal that the Empire's still using it?" he asked. "In the Senate, like you did when you called out the Ghorman massacre?"

A look passed between Mon Mothma and Sentator Organa. "Unfortunately we can't do so publicly without compromising our operatives in the Senate, due to the nature of how we obtained the information." She returned her attention to Ezra. "But behind closed doors, it could be enough to sway a few dignitaries. Again," she emphasized gently, "only if you're comfortable."

Ezra hesitated, thinking.

"We won't reveal it was you specifically," Mon Mothma promised.

He stirred from his thoughts, giving a shy half-shrug. "Sure, yeah," he said. "Whatever helps the Rebellion, right?" He could feel a quiet displeasure rolling off of Kallus but he ignored it.

Senator Mothma smiled and gave a nod. "I'm sure there are many other ways you can help the Rebellion, Lieutenant Commander. Have you been cleared for active duty yet?"

"Not yet," he told her, shaking his head. He tried not to sound too disappointed about the fact. "But I see Dr. Leslynn again in two days so, you know, maybe."

"I'm certainly looking forward to it." She stepped back, posture formal again though the warm, Hera-like expression was still in place. "Your fortitude and resilience in the face of Imperial torture is admirable," she told him. "We're lucky to have you."

A confusing flip rolled through Ezra's heart. He felt choked up and flushed and short of breath all at once. For a long while his throat was too tight for him to speak. He cleared it with a soft cough, and then managed a small, "Thanks."

Senator Mothma nodded once to dismiss him, then turned back to her conference with the others.

Ezra stood in place awkwardly, unsure now where to go next. The room resumed operations around him, paying him no more heed.

Except for Kallus of course, who turned his severely disquieted expression upon him.

"Are you _sure_ you're comfortable with this?" he probed.

The boy shrugged. "She said they're not gonna say who it was, so it's not like anyone's going to know."

"That's not the point," Kallus said, an undercurrent of frustration in his voice. "Are _you_ okay with the details of your personal trauma being discussed between other people?"

Ezra stifled a groan. "Kallus, it's fine. I don't—I'm not—" His words stumbled over each other. He stopped, closing his eyes a moment and taking a deep breath to clear the jumble of thoughts in his head.

He opened them again.

"I want to do it," he said quietly. "I need to feel like... like it was worth something. Like we didn't lose everything at Atollon," he continued, his mind drifting to Sato. A sinking heaviness felt like it was weighing him down. If the mission hadn't gone so belly-up... if he hadn't... then Mart wouldn't be alone right now and the Rebellion wouldn't be struggling.

Kallus made a face like he could hear Ezra's thoughts, chagrin twisting his mouth.

"That... doesn't sound entirely healthy," he said.

Ezra cracked a smile. "Yeah, well, fortunately you aren't my therapist," he said lightly, turning to find the nearest door. "So you don't have to make that call." He thumbed over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go see if Hera has anything for me to do on the _Ghost_. I'll see you later, Al."

Kallus had been looking as though he wanted to say something further, but upon hearing that he sputtered. "I beg your pardon, _Al?"_

"What?" Ezra asked innocently. "You said I could call you by your first name."

"I never meant for you to be _that_ comfortable with it," the ex-ISB agent muttered.

"Don't be so embarrassed, Alexsandr," Ezra teased, "It ruins your image." and then he ducked out of the room before the sight of Kallus's darkening face could send him into hysterical giggles.

-SWR-

Kallus fumed, watching Ezra dart off. Despite the boy's cheerful tone, Kallus couldn't help but notice the skittish way he veered around a pair of techs working on an open circuit panel, their electro-welder making little yellow sparks as they pinched it.

Like he didn't want to be anywhere within earshot of it.

He sighed.

That talk with Captain Syndulla was _definitely_ happening now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. Continuing off a bit of a thread I started in "Cracks In The Mirror", Kallus has now found himself mentor to the Iron Squadron kids. I did it because it was it funny. :)
> 
> 2\. And because it's still a _hideous_ narrative injustice we never got to see Mart's reaction to his uncle's sacrifice. There will be more to come on that end.
> 
> 3\. I played off Ezra's interactions with Mon Mothma as though he had just an eensy little bit of a crush on her. We all know the boy has a type, come on.
> 
> 4\. Ezra's startle reaction is growing more pronounced. Kallus can't help but notice.
> 
> 5\. Space Mom Hera finally appears! As mentioned prior in "Cracks In The Mirror", Ezra's ordeal has made her into even more of a workaholic than usual, hence why she hasn't seen Ezra until now—too busy making the Empire pay.


	7. Backstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I like to affectionately call a "crowbar" chapter. As in I take a narrative crowbar to Ezra's metaphorical kneecaps. So expect some heavy PTSD symptom depictions in this chapter.
> 
>  _~You have been duly warned.~_ :D

Hera pursed her lips, mulling things over.

"I don't know, Ezra. I'm not sure this particular mission is the best one for you to come back to active duty on," she considered.

"Sounds pretty simple," Ezra argued. "Get in, plant a few data spikes, get out. We've done those kinds of jobs dozens of times before."

"Yes, but..." Hera shook her head. "What worries me is the large Imperial presence and their rapid-response warning system. If we're not careful things could get really hairy in a hurry."

The boy shrugged. "So we go in quietly. What's the problem?"

Hera studied him intently, eyes lasering in on his face. "Are you sure you're up for a stealth mission? Kallus tells me you've been pretty jumpy lately."

Ezra held back his frustration. He made a couple private disparaging comments about Kallus in his head. "Hera, I'm fine, I can handle it." A little more anxiously he added, "Look, Leslynn cleared me, she says I'm good to go. I want to get back out there and _do_ something. I'm tired of just sitting around at the base."

He stopped talking and bit his lip, afraid he'd already said more than enough for Hera to discern his lie.

Well, technically it was true. Leslynn _had_ cleared him. Reluctantly. After much begging on his part.

"Ezra, as a physician I can't advise this course of action," she'd told him, the memory of her voice aggravated and weary in his head. "You need more time."

"I've had nothing _but_ time and all I've done is... is think about it!" he'd cried. "No matter what I do I can't _stop_ and I'm tired of feeling _useless_ and I just... I need something _normal_ again." He hadn't been able to hide the full-body tremble vibrating through him. " _Please_ , Leslynn," he'd begged, expression desperate.

She'd looked at him a long moment before giving in with a sigh and a muttered, "I'm going to regret this."

He'd thought, after the monumental amount of persuasion it had taken to finally convince Dr. Leslynn, that Hera would be a lot easier.

 _Thanks Kallus,_ he grumbled again inside his head.

Hera was still frowning. "You're _sure_ you want in on this one?" she checked with him again.

"I'm sure," Ezra said at once.

"It's not going to be easy."

"I know."

"I don't need you becoming a liability out there."

He shook his head. "I won't," he told her. "I promise." His eyes crinkled. "Look, Hera, it's this or stealing the Imperial codebreaking data with AP and Chopper and I really, _really,_ " he emphasized, "don't want to be in-between those two on a mission."

Hera gave a short laugh. "Fair enough," she said. She touched a hand to his arm. "All right, look over the briefing notes on my datapad, we leave in three hours."

Relief flooded through him and he nodded. "I'll be ready."

Hera moved past him to the door. As it swished shut behind her, Ezra sagged in place.

Inhaling a shaky breath, he unclipped the lightsaber from his belt.

He had some time. He should drill his forms. Make sure he wasn't rusty.

He followed in Hera's wake, leaving the _Ghost_ 's common room empty and quiet.

-SWR-

This was a mistake.

Ezra pressed himself tighter into the console, his cuffed hands fisting in front of his face, nails digging into his skin.

This was a _mistake._

The sounds of the firefight and the blaring rapid-warning klaxon were far away, his head filled with roaring static and the echoes of the interrogation chamber all muddied together into an auditory mess. Blaster bolts and running footsteps mixed with electric crackling. Crackling, so much crackling. Why hadn't anyone warned him there would be this much crackling?

The plasma regulator in the corner switched on again, sounding its awful electric pitch, making Ezra flinch, burying him back under the memories of the electrodes sending arcs of energy across his chest. His heart gave a physical pang of pain, as if he could feel it all over again.

He stifled a whimper.

Too much... there was too much... He couldn't... _focus_...

-SWR-

Hera popped up from behind her cover, shooting off a rapid string of bolts that felled a Stormtrooper on the far side of the room. No sooner had he gone down than another one took his place, and several more were pouring in through the door, summoned by the klaxon still ringing out, deafening in her ear cones.

Gritting her teeth, she ducked low and darted across to the console where Ezra was huddled, letting the others take over defending for a moment.

He was curled up so tight against it indentions must have been forming on his back. The troopers had gotten binders on him, she noticed. She couldn't see his face, but he was shaking all over.

She knelt by his side, touching his shoulder, worry all over her face.

"Ezra," she called.

He shook his head with a soft moan.

She grabbed his hands, gently trying to pull them away from his face. "Ezra, sweetie, come on. Come back to me." She brushed his cheek softly. "I'm here now. It's gonna be okay."

His hands lowered slightly, his eyes wide and haunted, seeming to stare past her rather than at her.

"Hera?"

She nodded, grabbing for the binders and fiddling with them, trying to find the lock.

"No..." Ezra's eyes were squeezing closed. He shuddered. "No you can't... you can't be here... this is another trick..."

Dropping hold of the binders in frustration, Hera just grabbed both sides of Ezra's head, forcing him to look at her. "Ezra, it's _me._ I promise. I need you to snap out of it for a second, okay?"

He gasped, alerting, his eyes focusing as if he could finally see her.

Hera reached for the binders again, managing to unlock them this time. As they dropped into Ezra's lap, she whipped her head over her shoulder. The others had cleared an opening. It was time to go.

She turned back to Ezra, moving around him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "All right. We're going to run now," she told him.

He nodded mutely.

Hera counted down in her head, then rushed them from their cover, firing her blaster in a frenzy.

"Zeb!" she called. "Cover our retreat!"

"Will do!" he shouted to acknowledge, moving to take point and block the exit the Rebels were now filing through from the onslaught of Stormtroopers.

-SWR-

Ezra kept his eyes down, huddling into Hera's side as they ran through the corridor. His hands stayed clutched over his ears, trying to block out the noise. The sensory overload pounded in his head. Voices shouted to each other, echoed in his mind.

_"This is only going to get worse for you the more you resist. Why not just tell me what you know?"_

_Blurry vision. His own voice slurring._

_"Li' I'd... tell y'nything..."_

_Pryce turning towards the Imperial interrogator. "I don't think he's had enough. Increase the dosage. We're beginning another cycle."_

_Glass tubes knocking together as a hand sifted through them. A pitched electric whine. The plasma regulator_ —

Ezra smacked a hand to the side of his head. Forcing the memory down. Forcing the voices away. _No_ , he thought. He wasn't there. He wasn't _there_. He needed to... to get a grip.

Hera's arms anchored him in the present. He clung to that feeling, making himself take slow breaths. The sound of the klaxon was growing softer. The ringing in his head was fading.

Open air hit his face and he squinted, the light sudden and brighter than was comfortable. Ten quick steps across the yard and then they were in the _Phantom II_.

Hera let go of him, speeding to the pilot's seat. Ezra's hands found his arms, gripping tightly, digging his nails in. His balance tilted, unsteadily.

"What the hell was that?!" one of the other Rebel operatives was yelling. A stand-in, Ezra didn't know his name, couldn't place him by sight. "You brought almost the entire base down on us!"

"Hey!" Zeb snapped, inserting himself between the two. "Back off!"

Turning to Ezra his voice and face softened.

"Whadda ya need, kid?" he asked.

Ezra couldn't answer, feeling a lurch in his stomach that tightened and rolled up into his throat.

He dropped, his knees hitting the floor as he heaved, coughing up, choking on bile. Zeb knelt down next to him, thumping his back gently, helping his breath come back.

"Easy now," he said. "Easy."

Ezra inhaled sharply, wiping his mouth. A lingering nausea tickled his throat. He let Zeb take his shoulders and guide him up into a seat, numbly.

The shuttle's engines roared to life, the floor tilting and shifting as Hera took off, blasting up into the upper atmosphere.

The farther and farther they got from the Imperial facility, the more Ezra's head cleared. The noise and the static dropped back down to their regular levels. His mind quieted, the echoes stilling into silence. His racing pulse and frantic heartrate began to stabilize and even out.

The iron clamps around his lungs slowly loosened.

It felt too cold in the shuttle. He couldn't stop shivering. Now that the panic and adrenaline was subsiding he just felt... hollow. Scraped out. Emptied.

There was a lurch as the shuttle went into hyperspace. Up in the cockpit Hera sat back, her hands loosening from the controls. She exhaled softly, sitting there for a moment or two. Then she got up from her seat.

Ezra flinched a little as she came over to him. She leaned down, taking a knee and reaching gently for one of his hands.

"Are you hurt?" she asked. "Did they hurt you?"

He shook his head, not looking up at her. Hera's soft concern was almost worse than if she'd shouted at him. "No," he replied. "I don't... I don't think so."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Hera pressed.

The bile threatened to rise up again. Ezra swallowed thickly. "I don't—" His words faltered on the way out. "I'm not su—"

He bit his lip. The memory replayed in his mind's eye. The plasma regulator switching on. Him snapping up, hitting his head on the ceiling of the vent. Sitting there terrified as the troopers' voices beneath alerted to him. Being pulled down, hitting the floor with his cheek.

They hadn't known what to do with him at first. One of them had started radioing for a superior, while another approached him with binders.

Even just remembering it now his breath hitched again. The trooper moved to put them on him and... the next thing Ezra remembered his arms were outstretched and the man had been flung across the room.

Shouts of "A Jedi!" echoing. Someone hitting the rapid-response klaxon. Everything he could perceive dissolving into chaos.

He swallowed again, lowering his head. Shame burned hot on his face.

"I messed up. I'm sorry, Hera," he said softly. "I made too much noise and they caught me."

"Barely even got to plant any of the spikes," one of the other operatives grumbled.

"The important thing," Hera said pointedly, darting a brief glare backwards, "is that you're all right. We can assess the damage later." She stood up, heading back to the pilot's seat. "Chopper," she called up through the comms to the astromech socket, "patch me through to Rebel Command."

Ezra squeezed himself tighter, hiding his face. Next to him, Zeb put an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey," he whispered. "'s'all right, Ezra. 's'all right."

 _But it's not,_ Ezra thought miserably, turning away from the front of the shuttle so he wouldn't have to see the disappointment in Senator Mothma's eyes.

-SWR-

A very irate Kanan met them almost as soon as they disembarked the _Phantom II_.

"What happened?!" he demanded.

Hera raised her hands placatingly, intercepting him at the common room door. "He's not hurt. He's a bit shaken, but he's all right." She lowered her hands with a sigh. "Wish I could say the same for the mission though."

Ezra trudged along next to Zeb, still holding himself. He peeked up at Hera and Kanan, his throat tightening with a lump. Kanan's worry siphoned off in waves through the Force and Ezra kept his mental shields up, not wanting to let his master in and let him see what a mess his padawan was.

The man stared in his direction, quietly probing, then turned back to Hera.

"What happened?" Kanan repeated, softer this time.

"Something went wrong on Ezra's end," Hera explained. "A patrol caught him; I think they were waiting for their commanding officer. They didn't have hold of him very long but..." Her lekku swished as she shook her head.

Kanan grimaced. "Ah jeez..." he groaned, wiping a hand down his chin.

Ezra wanted to fade into the wall. He could feel the crackling irritation from the pair of stand-in operatives who'd accompanied them on the mission, as they brushed past, and he couldn't blame them.

The troopers had probably already discovered and destroyed what few spikes they'd managed to insert.

Kanan and Hera stood aside to let the other Rebels exit, then looked as one towards Ezra. There was no hardness or anger, just concern, and it scalded him.

He wanted very much to be elsewhere.

"I'll go get cleaned up," he mumbled, shuffling quickly towards the door.

Kanan tried to reach out for him but Ezra rushed past, ducking his head, stumbling out the door and around the ladder. His hands found and hit the release for the door to his room.

He locked it behind him, sinking down with his back against it, curling his knees up to his chest.

Heat stung under his eyes. He blinked furiously. Crying wouldn't do any good now. What was done was done, and Hera would just have to pick up whatever pieces she could salvage from his mess.

A soft knock came at the door behind him.

"Hey kid?" Zeb called, muffled through the durasteel. "You okay in there?"

Ezra squished himself smaller, burying his eyes in his arms. "Not now, Zeb," he begged. "Please just... leave me alone for a bit, all right?"

Zeb made a sound of discontent, but responded, "All right. There'll be food in the kitchen for you, if you think you can keep it down."

His heavy footsteps faded away.

Ezra's empty stomach gnarled with agitation at the mere thought of food. The hum of the air filtration system was already making it hard to concentrate.

He sat and hated himself for a long hour.

-SWR-

When Ezra emerged, the ship was quiet. The food that had been left out for him had long since gone cold, but Ezra couldn't eat a thing anyway. He tossed it in the cold storage before making his way up to the cockpit.

As he approached, he heard Kanan and Hera's voices through the door, speaking low to each other, and hesitated a moment. His heart tilted, beating faster.

Shoving down his anxiety, he opened the door.

They stopped talking, looking back at him. Ezra stood there, shame-faced, saying nothing. Eying the ladder down to the cargo hold but making no move to go towards it.

Hera got to her feet. She crossed her arms, demeanor all strict Rebel commander, and Ezra braced himself for the coming lecture.

"The troopers missed one spike," she told him. "We're patched in to their outgoing data transmissions. Cargo manifests, mostly."

He bit his lip against the temptation to make an inappropriate joke about AP being happy with that.

Hera's voice was quiet, but stern. "You're off-mission for a week. Dr. Leslynn will evaluate you again at the end of that period. Am I understood?"

Ezra flinched. Hot emotion frothed up inside him. He wanted to scream about how that wasn't fair, he couldn't be taken back out of the fight right when he'd just been let in again.

But he swallowed down his protest and nodded with a small, resigned, "Yes Hera."

Then before she could say anything else, before she could soften and reach for him and before Kanan could pipe in, Ezra was already climbing down the ladder and running past a worried Sabine towards the Massasi temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't just let leave the boy alone could I? Had to go and traumatize him again, bwah-ha-ha.
> 
> Chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. Mom!Hera being soft and concerned and caring about her space son is one of my favorite things to write, so naturally once she and Ezra could actually interact it came out in force.
> 
> 2\. She's still a very no-nonsense Rebel leader though, and needs her operatives at peak capacity. Which Ezra is most decidedly... not. At least right now. So yes, he's basically grounded.
> 
> 3\. Some faceless extras along for the ride on the mission because naturally none of the Ghost crew would snipe at Ezra for messing up at this point. (Though Hera is a bit Disappointed.)
> 
> 4\. Protective Big Brother Zeb for the win. :)


	8. Confront

"No, AP, I do _not_ need you to recount the entire stack, all I want is to know how many power cells we have," Kallus groaned in aggravation.

"It could have changed since the last time I took inventory," AP-5 pointed out, somewhat indignantly. "In order to give you an accurate figure, it would be best for me to first ascertain that no one has taken any cells _out_ of inventory, and the best way to do that is by recounting them all."

"I just need a rough number. That's all," Kallus said, rubbing both his temples.

Behind him he heard irreverent snickering from Jonner.

"Good grief, just take a couple and let's get on with it," muttered Gooti. "At this rate we'll never get out on the range."

Hearing her and silently agreeing, Kallus just reached past the inventory droid. "Ugh, never mind, AP, I'll just look for myself." He pried open the carton lid and made a quick scan with his eyes.

"Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six..." he counted to himself. "All right, there's plenty. AP, I'm taking a few for practice. If you still feel like you need to count them, you can go ahead."

"Acknowledged."

Kallus plucked four power cells from the crate. He tossed one to Gooti, juggling the others in the crook of his elbow as he made his way over.

Jonner quickly straightened, the grin dropping off his face. Mart didn't move from where he was splayed across two crates, his arms folded, looking past his feet glumly.

Kallus set the power cells down atop the crate Mart was leaning against, then whapped the boy's back in annoyance.

"Stop slouching!" he chided. "You'll ruin your posture!"

Startled, Mart's eyes widened and he scrambled to arrange himself into a more professional sitting position.

Kallus pulled out his standard-issue sidearm, opening up the handle. "All right," he explained, holding the blaster out so all three of them could see. "Now the first thing you do is—"

"Kallus!"

A shout from across the field reached his ears. Kallus leaned back up, turning in confusion.

Ezra was stalking up, his hands clenched, red-rimmed eyes burning with anger. When he reached them his arms snapped up, shoving Kallus lightly.

"You told Hera I'd be a liability?!" he yelled, incredulous.

Kallus took a stumbling step back, dismayed but not surprised at Ezra's anger. Of course the boy would have learned of his talk with Syndulla eventually, but he'd hoped Ezra _wouldn't_ take it like a breach of trust.

"That's not what I said," he defended. "I warned her you could _become_ a liability if you were put into an uncontrolled situation wherein something could trigger your memories of the incident and cause a... reaction," he said evasively, grimacing at the word.

Ezra jabbed a finger into Kallus's chest. "You screwed me over! Now Hera says I'm banned from missions for a week!" he said, eyes flashing, furious.

"How is that my fault?!" Kallus protested. "Did you or did you not have just such a reaction while on mission?" he demanded, folding his arms.

The anger on Ezra's face faltered. It looked like he was struggling to hold back tears. "That's not—" he sputtered. "I didn't—"

Kallus loosened his arms, forced himself to let go of his indignance, glancing back briefly and seeing the matching looks of distress and pity on Iron Squadron's faces. They were looking towards Ezra with concern, looking to him a little fearfully, unsure what to do. Kallus exhaled and turned back to Ezra, who was fisting his hands tightly, quivering, barely making eye contact.

He reached out gently.

"Ezra, I understand what you're going through—"

His hand had barely touched Ezra's shoulder before Ezra yanked himself back as if scalded.

"No you don't!" he screamed. The glimmer of tears peeked out from under his eyes. "You _don't_ understand so don't even pretend you do!"

He whipped around with a choked sort of gasp, running back the way he'd come, rushing past Kanan, who followed his heavy pounding footsteps with his turning head and made an ineffective grab for him.

"Ezra!" he called sharply.

Ezra didn't respond, rubbing his eyes as disappeared between a pair of bewildered pilots.

Kanan groaned in frustration, leaving his padawan for now and walking up to Kallus.

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing his face and neck. "You know he doesn't mean it."

"I know. No offense is taken, Master Jarrus," Kallus assured him. His hand drifted up to clasp his elbow. "I... assume the mission went... poorly?" he asked.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it," sighed Kanan. "Let's just say it was a bit rough."

An awkward silence fell between the two men for a moment. Kallus was looking towards the ground, rubbing his arm, his face solemn.

"...I was only trying to look out for him," he said, quietly.

"He knows that," Kanan reassured him. "Ezra's just... frustrated. And you're an easy target to pin it on. For what it's worth," Kanan interjected, "thank you. I'm glad you've been watching over him."

A faint and grim smile touched Kallus's mouth. "He risked his life to come rescue me. That's something I won't soon forget." He punctuated his next words with a long-suffering eye roll. "And stars know he's too stubborn to admit when he's troubled."

"Don't I know it," Kanan groaned. He held up a questioning hand. "Which way did he go?" he asked.

Kallus directed his arm. "On the left, about fifty paces, opening to the tunnels. You'll feel the air. Take care to step around the supply crates, fifteen paces, slightly on your right."

"Thanks," Kanan said, moving in the direction he'd been instructed, one hand feeling out for obstacles.

Kallus watched him go, just to make sure he didn't trip over something, then gave a huff. "Now if there are no further interruptions..." he said, turning back around.

He stopped, casting his gaze this way and that. Ensign Terez and Ensign Jin were still in place but Ensign Mattin had, mysteriously, disappeared.

"Oh for... not _again_ ," Kallus groaned.

-SWR-

Ezra picked at the grass with his fingers, quietly ripping blades up and flicking away the pieces. He'd finally found a place, on the far, far side of the landing field, where the static in his head didn't feel like it was suffocating him.

The hustle and bustle of the base was barely audible here. The only one around was Chopper, who had rolled up next to him some time ago. Every so often the droid would poke him with one of his manipulators and ask a question, Ezra giving short, mumbled replies back. For the most part the droid was silent, just... being present.

Ezra appreciated that.

He sniffed, blinking hard. His eyes itched, red and puffy. His face was probably flushed.

His wrist comm had been pinging for an hour. Hera or Sabine or maybe Zeb trying to reach him. He didn't know. He hadn't answered any of them.

The wind rustled. Somewhere off in the trees a bird was chirping. The Force swirled in eddies around him.

They shifted, alerting him to Kanan's approaching presence even before Ezra heard his voice and his footsteps.

"You gonna keep making me chase you around the base?" Kanan asked.

Chopper screeched and barreled for the Jedi's legs, knocking against them.

"Ah!" Kanan cried, hopping back in pain. Chopper continued his assault, whapping at Kanan's shins with his manipulators as he berated the man in angry binary. Kanan pulled his legs out of range, glaring down at the droid. "Hey, _back off_ , Chopper!" he barked. "I _will_ tell Hera about this!"

Ezra spoke up, tucking his arms under his knees. "Chop, it's okay. Just let him through."

Chopper warbled uncertainly, but rolled aside and let Kanan proceed. Ezra heard the crunch of the grass under Kanan's boots as he walked up.

"I don't wanna talk right now, Kanan," he said, muttering into his legs.

"I know you don't." Kanan's fingers brushed behind Ezra's head, found his shoulder and used it as a handhold to lean on as he sat down next to him. "But I think you might need to."

"Is Hera still mad?" The question burned out of him before he could stop it.

Kanan let his hand drift around Ezra's other shoulder, hugging the boy to his side tightly. "She's not mad at _you,_ Ezra," he said, his words a weary groan. "She's upset that you pushed yourself into a mission before you were ready and didn't warn her about your sound triggers, and she's obsessing over what could have happened to you if she and Zeb hadn't gotten to you right away. But she's not _mad_ at you," he repeated.

Ezra shrugged halfheartedly. "If you say so," he mumbled, clearly not believing him.

Kanan squeezed Ezra's shoulders tighter, giving him a little shake. "Hey. I mean it," he told the boy sharply. "Hera and I are much more worried about what _could_ have happened than what _did_ happen. You're here, and you're safe. That's what matters," he emphasized.

Kanan's words did nothing to budge the miserable expression from Ezra's face. But with his master's arm holding him, the peaceful quiet of Yavin's jungle, the humid sunlight on his head... he did have to agree that this was vastly preferable to all the terrible scenarios that had been running through his head.

He sat in silence with Kanan for a while, feeling the reassurance his master was trying to pass to him through their bond, just listening to the sound of his own breathing, to Chopper's quiet beeps and wheel skids as he wandered around.

Kanan rubbed his shoulder. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Ezra thought for a moment. Conflicting emotions were jostling for his attention, but the one that bubbled up closest to the surface...

"Angry," he replied.

"At Kallus?"

"At myself." He uncurled his arms from his knees, his hands opening to the air helplessly. "I _begged_ Hera to be let on the mission and then I couldn't even handle it." Ezra dropped his face into his palms. "Kallus was right. I'm a liability," he said, his voice tight, trying to keep from crying.

"You're a kid who got hurt and is still healing from it," Kanan corrected firmly. A quiet fury ran under his words, appalled that Ezra would think so little of himself. "You botched up one mission, Ezra. That doesn't make you a liability. No one thinks you are, not even Kallus." Kanan tugged him closer, letting Ezra's head come to rest against his collar. "Maybe just try to pick your missions a little more carefully next time okay?" he said, his voice softer.

Ezra let himself be pulled into the comforting gesture, hands dropping into his lap, tears prickling at his eyes again. "But Kanan, what if—what if it keeps happening? What if I keep messing up?"

Kanan shook his head. "You won't. But you have to tell us when you're uncomfortable or unsure about doing something." Kanan gave one last squeeze before letting go, letting Ezra have a little room. "And there are a few Force techniques I could teach you," he added. "It won't be like this forever, Ezra. You _will_ get better."

The conviction in his master's voice made him want to believe it. Ezra stared off into the trees for a long moment.

Finally, he stirred, moving to get up, and he was surprised that his chest felt just a little bit lighter.

"Thanks," he said.

"Where are you going?" Kanan asked, confused.

Ezra's mouth twisted grimly. "To go apologize to Kallus."

-SWR-

Ezra paced back and forth, trying the frequency for Kallus' comm again, some irrational part of him hoping no one would answer.

But with a jolt of anxiety pinging through him, Ezra heard the line pick up and an annoyed voice piping through.

_"That had better be you, Ensign Mattin or so help me_ _—"_

"Um, actually it's me."

An awkward pause.

 _"Oh."_ Seemingly regaining his composure, Kallus asked, _"What is it, Ezra?"_

Ezra was immeasurably thankful he'd chosen to do this over comm, rather than in person, so Kallus couldn't see his face. His fingernails dug into the back of his neck as he took a deep breath.

"I just... wanted to say sorry. For earlier." His cheeks were burning hot. The words scraped out of his throat with effort. "I was wrong to yell at you," he strained out.

_"That's all right. I understand why you did."_

Force, he hated how _understanding_ everyone was being around him. He wished someone would just yell at him. Tell him what a screw-up he was. Something.

He cleared his throat.

"Anyway, that's... that's all I needed to say," he finished.

 _"You're forgiven,"_ Kallus said tersely. _"Now if you'll excuse me, Ensign Mattin is ducking training. Again."_

Ezra's brows scrunched. "How do you keep losing him?" he asked, incredulous.

Kallus just ended the call without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now return you to your regularly scheduled chapter notes.
> 
> 1\. Writing Kallus as an Eternally Frustrated Parent is endlessly entertaining. Expect more jokes at his expense in that regard.
> 
> 2\. Mart finally appears! Not for very long, but we'll see more of him later.
> 
> 3\. Kanan is the best Space Dad, accept no substitutes. XD


	9. Wayward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezra gets to take his mind off his own problems for a little bit to help other people with their problems. Because Counselor!Ezra gives me life.

Ezra rubbed at the last little bit of carbon scoring, the cleaning cloth making squeaky noises under his fingers. When it was gone, he sat back, wiping his brow.

He ached, and his arms were sore, but it was a pleasant kind of tingling, accompanied by a sense of satisfaction.

"Wow," commented Hera from below, walking up with an armful of hydrospanners in her hands. Her lekku twitched as she looked her ship up and down, marveling in bewilderment. "I don't think I've ever seen the _Ghost_ 's hull look so clean." She peered up at Ezra with narrowed eyes. She'd only asked him to do the _Phantom II._

_Has he been up there all day?_

Ezra popped up and jumped down off the prow, breathless. He tossed the cleaning cloth off to the side.

"Anything else I can do?" he asked.

Hera's mouth flattened. The hydrospanners floated in her hands as she hesitated. With some reluctance she passed them over to Ezra.

"Take these to Maintenance Bay Three for me?" she suggested.

He almost snatched the hydrospanners in his eagerness to take them. "On it!" he said, already running off.

Hera jabbed a finger towards his receding back. "And then _sit down_ , for Ryloth's sake!" she ordered.

Ezra pretended not to have heard her.

-SWR-

The maintenance bay was full of uncomfortably electric noise, so Ezra didn't stay long once he'd completed his task.

He held his breath until he was safely out in the hallway. The echoes faded behind him.

His head was ringing. He breathed in and out carefully, willing the nervous jolts coursing through him to stop.

_It's okay,_ he told himself. _I'm okay._

He kept walking until the trickles of adrenaline petered out.

With a heavy exhale, he slumped into the wall, leaning a shoulder against the cool stone. He rubbed his face tiredly.

"At this rate I'll never be let back on mission," he muttered. He knocked his fist against the side of his head, rapping sharply. "C'mon Ez, get it together," he told himself.

He pushed off from the wall, hearing a couple techs coming down the hallway from the other direction. He nodded briefly at them as they passed.

_All right, where to now?_ he wondered.

He let his feet carry him as he looked for something else to do. He avoided going back out to the airfield. If Hera or Sabine saw him there would be no end to the amount of grief they'd give him.

Ezra sighed. He knew he was overworking himself again, but nothing else kept his thoughts quiet. If he held still for even a moment his mind went down dark trails that led into pain-filled memories or twisted variations of what had happened at the Imperial facility.

He volunteered himself for a couple small tasks and was in the middle of passing tools to a mechanic working on a heating conduit when his wrist comm beeped insistently.

Ezra sighed and answered it.

_"Ezra?"_ Kallus sounded more stressed than usual.

"Hey Kallus," Ezra answered absently, handing a wrench to the mechanic. "Need something?"

There was a scuffle of noise on the line. Ezra heard Gooti and Jonner's voices in the background, pitched, hysterical-sounding.

_"_ — _all by himself! He's going to get killed! We_ — _"_

_"Gooti_ — _Gooti please calm down!"_ Kallus strained. He came back on. _"I need your assistance, Ezra. Ensign Mattin has run off."_

Ezra kept his comm lifted as he leaned down to grab the toolbox. "That's nothing new," he commented.

Kallus snarked back with a flustered tone. _"Yes, but this time he took an X-wing."_

Ezra almost dropped the toolbox. He double-took at his wrist comm, and even the mechanic he was helping stopped his work and gawped.

"What?!" Ezra exclaimed.

Jonner's voice crowded in on the open line. _"We tried to stop him! He said he wanted to make Thrawn pay!"_

Ezra carefully set the toolbox down, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a groan. _Yeah, that sounds exactly like the kind of reckless, impulsive, stupid thing I would have done if I was in his place,_ he thought. "Ugh, that _moron!_ " he said under his breath. He glanced anxiously at the mechanic, who waved him off with a look of wide-eyed concern. Ezra nodded to thank him, then hurried to find the nearest exit. "How long's he been gone?"

_"He just took off."_

"All right," Ezra breathed, emerging out into the open air. His pulse was anxious, creeping worry trickling through him. He scanned the skies, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the wayward craft. "All right, what do you want me to do?" he asked.

_"Kanan mentioned to me something about you having 'an ability to connect', whatever that means,"_ Kallus said. _"Can you use the Force to locate where he's_ — _"_

Ezra had already begun extending his senses while Kallus was speaking, and in moments brushed up against a distant presence drenched in negative emotions—anger and grief the most prominent.

"Found him."

Gooti gave a cry in the background of his still-active comm. _"Oh thank stars!"_

_"Where is he?"_ asked Kallus.

Ezra felt out, closing his eyes and extending a hand to focus in. "He hasn't left atmosphere. He's just... circling." Ezra opened his eyes, his worry fading, replaced by a sudden swell of sympathy. Mart wasn't actually going anywhere. He was just... wandering. Directionless.

His own feet had made similar paths many an early predawn morning, after one of his nightmares.

_"He's not answering his comlink. Of course,"_ Kallus groaned, his voice breaking Ezra out of his thoughts. _"Are we supposed to just wait for him to decide what he's doing?"_

Stirring, Ezra made a quick decision. He lifted his wrist, trotting towards the treeline on the other side of the airfield. "I'll handle this."

_"What do you mean you'll 'handle' it?"_ blustered Kallus.

"I'm gonna see if I can convince him to come back to ground." Ezra spotted a small black speck against the blue sky, and fixated on it, tracking it with his eyes. "I'll talk to you later, Kallus."

He tapped the button to disconnect and let his arm swing down by his side. He ran on a little further, finding a place that was relatively clear, where he wouldn't be in the way.

Taking in a shaky breath, he lifted his hand and reached out through the Force again.

His mind touched Mart's. He extended calm out to the boy, like he remembered Kanan doing for him time and time again. Like he had done for the Ithorian infant Pypey, when they were being chased by the Inquisitors.

Mart didn't respond to it at first. Ezra frowned and pushed just a little more— _Not too hard!_ , he told himself, remembering uncomfortably the AT-DP pilot whose mind he had taken over. The Force flowed through him, warm and open, and he offered out the feeling to the turbulent presence in the air.

After a moment, he felt the boy's anger siphoning away. Ezra opened his eyes and saw that the black speck of the wayward X-wing was circling down, heading back towards the ground.

Ezra exhaled his relief. He commed Kallus again.

"Okay. He's landing."

_"Good,"_ Kallus sniped. _"Send me the coordinates so I can come_ _ **strangle**_ _him."_

"Kallus, wait," Ezra protested. He moved towards the treeline, keeping the blip of the X-wing within sight. "Let me talk to him first."

Kallus sighed heavily. _"If you must."_

Ezra let the line disconnect as he walked into the trees.

-SWR-

Mart had set the craft down in a small clearing not that far from the base. It only took Ezra a couple minutes of searching, after losing sight of the X-wing's descent, to locate both the ship and its errant pilot.

His boots padded the moist earth softly as he approached.

Sunlight filtered down through the open patch. The X-wing had its cockpit open and Mart was seated on a moss-covered log nearby, his arms around his knees, looking off through the trees with a thousand-yard stare.

"Thought you were halfway to Lothal by now," Ezra said lightly, walking up behind him.

Mart shrugged. "Thought about it," he admitted. "But what's the point?" he added morosely. He curled up a fraction tighter. "It's not gonna bring back my uncle." His voice dropped even quieter. "Or my dad."

Ezra didn't have a response prepared yet, his heart too clogged up with sympathy and guilt to form words, so for the moment he just came and sat down on the log next to Mart.

The silence stretched out, broken only by an occasional bird warble.

Mart stirred and gave a groan, putting his face in his hands. "I don't know what I was thinking," he muttered.

"Well, let me put it this way... you weren't," Ezra joked. "And that's not a judgement by the way, just an observation."

That had the desired effect; the ghost of a smile tugged at Mart's lips.

"Kallus is pissed, isn't he?"

"Yep," Ezra confirmed. "But I wouldn't worry too much about him. He'll get over it," he told Mart. "Now, if _Hera_ finds out you stole an X-wing..."

Mart shuddered and changed the subject. "It's just..." A long pause followed and the brief levity left his face.

Ezra let him have a moment to gather his thoughts.

Mart tucked his chin on his arms. "I keep replaying that day in my head. Over and over," he said softly. "Wondering if there was something I could have done or something I should have said..." His voice tightened. "Something that would have kept him from getting on that ship."

Ezra looked away, burning with guilt. "I know what you mean," he mumbled.

"Oh, what?" Mart snapped, his eyes flashing angrily. "Don't tell me _you've_ got regrets about it. What would _you_ have even said to him?"

"Couldn't say," Ezra droned, the words coming out harsher and more bitter than he'd meant them to. "I was on board the _Chimaera_ at the time."

Mart ducked his face, immediately chastened. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Ezra simmered at the words, but swallowed back his irritation. For a moment, the two boys were silent.

"For the record," Ezra spoke up at last. "I _do_ know what it's like." He met Mart's eyes. "The Empire took my parents when I was seven. And there's a lot of things that..." Ezra had to stop a moment and swallow a sudden rise of emotion and tightness in his throat. "...that I wish I would have done differently. Mostly I just wish... that someone could have been there for me," he said, his voice small and quiet. He tucked his arms around himself, eyes dropping to the ground. "Until I met Hera and Kanan and the others, I was on my own." He lifted his face again. "But you don't have to be," he told Mart.

Mart traced circles in the log next to him. "Yeah... I know."

"Your uncle... your uncle was a great man," Ezra continued. His own sense of grief was curling around his heart, making his chest hurt, but he kept talking, forcing the words out. "I was happy to earn his respect. And..." He smiled. "...I think he'd be proud of you too."

The other boy seemed to come back alive. Ezra could feel it through the Force, the swell of positive emotion, a brightening in spirit.

It made the pain and guilt inside him fade for just a little bit.

Mart's eyes glimmered. "Thanks," he whispered. He rubbed his eyes clear, laughing shortly. "S'pose we should get back now."

Ezra's grin broadened. "Yeah, let's not keep Alex waiting," he agreed.

Mart tilted his head in confusion. "Alex?" he asked.

"I'll tell you later," Ezra said, nudging Mart's arm as he began to stand up.

-SWR-

Ezra couldn't quite keep pace with the X-wing as Mart flew it back to base, but managed to arrive back in the hanger just in time to see him exit. Kallus and the other two were waiting at the base of the landing gear, the older man frowning with his arms folded sternly. Ezra trotted up quickly so he could witness the reunion.

Gooti was the first to reach him, jabbing her finger into Mart's chest. "You had us worried _sick!_ " she cried, spitting the words out furiously.

Mart flinched at her anger, ducking his head. "I know, Gooti. I'm sorry."

"You better be!" she yelled, but as Ezra got closer he could see the relief in the lines of her face.

He joined them, moving up beside Mart and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"He just needed some time to clear his head," Ezra explained. He shot Kallus a look. "The X-wing's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on it. Barely even used any fuel. So there's no need to report this. _Right_ Kallus?" he prompted.

Kallus cleared his throat, his severe frown still in place.

"I trust this will _not_ happen again?" he asked Mart, pinning the boy with a glare.

Mart gulped. "Yes sir," he replied, then quickly corrected, "I mean—no sir, it won't."

"Good." Kallus turned to Ezra, acknowledging him with a nod. "Thank you," he said, gratitude melting away the sternness, his features softening. "I'm not sure what I would have done without your help."

Ezra shrugged casually, though the words warmed him through. "Probably something embarrassing," he said. "Hey, look, if you need an extra hand around to help with them I'll be right there," he offered. He rubbed the back of his head, stepping away from Mart. "I'm running out of things to do anyway and I need to keep... active," he explained, his eyes darting to the side.

"I understand. I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Ezra said, trudging off deeper into the hanger.

Kallus watched him go. Ezra's tread was somber, and Kallus wished he knew the boy's thoughts. He turned back around to see Mart looking at him with tilted head and curiously squinted eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"...Is your name _really_ Alexsandr?"

Kallus flushed and whipped about to shout his sputtered complaint at Ezra's rapidly disappearing back.

"For the—Ezra!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes! Let's see...
> 
> 1\. I always kind of wonder about the reactions background members of the Rebellion would have to Protagonist Shenanigans. (Like, you can't even tell me there weren't whispers of suspicion among the ranks after Ezra almost killed that one dude in "Visions and Voices".) So I threw in a random mechanic to be all, "Shit dude, go ahead, that sounds pretty important." at Ezra.
> 
> 2\. Ezra's empathy and compassion is my favorite thing about him. He just loves people so much and believes in their inner goodness and wants to protect them and make them feel alive.
> 
> 3\. I think a talk like this probably happened behind the scenes in canon, if nothing else to explain why Ezra was so ready to trust Mart with the secret of his impulsive Summon Purrgils idea.
> 
> 4\. I told y'all I would be exploring Mart's reaction to his uncle's death. I love that prickly, angry, impulsive, stupid little bastard and BY GOD I WILL GIVE HIM NARRATIVE JUSTICE.
> 
> 5\. Trollrza strikes again! Poor Kallus, the kids will never take him seriously again lol.


	10. Insulated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter just sort of... happened. I knew I wanted Ezra and Leslynn to talk again (after the whole totally-ignoring-her-medical-recommendations thing) and I really wanted some kind of little scene where Ezra has to hold himself together for some bloodwork being drawn or something (because Ezra and I share a pronounced dislike of needles). So I just started writing it and it got longer and longer and then all of a sudden it was its own chapter.
> 
> Ah well. Not like y'all are gonna complain. XD
> 
> As mentioned, some needle-poking. Squeamish be warned.

Ezra fidgeted on the examination table, hearing the med droids shuffle around behind him, as Leslynn poked and prodded at his shoulders and arms, glancing down every so often at her scanner.

Apparently he'd strained himself a little too much cleaning off the _Ghost_. There was a soreness in his shoulders that refused to go away. Leslynn was checking him for pulled muscles now.

She examined him silently, eyes focused on her work, and Ezra's fidgeting grew more and more agitated the longer she refused to follow the script that had been playing persistently in his head, didn't speak the words that he'd been waiting for and dreading ever since Hera had noticed him wincing in pain and ordered him to go see the medic.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Aren't you going to say it?" he asked, blurting out the words.

Absently, she replied, "Say what, Ezra?"

"'I told you so.'"

She pinched along his left bicep. "What would be the point in that?" she said. "I'm sure you're already beating yourself up for it plenty."

Ezra sighed, even as a quiet relief trickled down through his throat. "Well... you're not wrong about that," he told her.

Leslynn stepped back, rubbing a hand across her face. "Right, well, good news is that it doesn't look like you've pulled anything, but you _have_ overstrained both deltoids and trapeziuses. You'll be fine in a day or two but you're going to need—"

"Let me guess..." Ezra interrupted, a groan in his voice. "Rest."

The doctor smiled faintly. "Just avoiding strenuous labor should do." She handed her scanner off to one of the med droids. "Can't do anything about your massive guilt-complex though, I'm afraid," she added as a joke.

That made Ezra chuckle. "Let me worry about that, Doc. I don't think that's exactly your area of expertise," he teased back.

" _That's_ the Ezra Bridger I know," smiled Leslynn, demeanor brightening.

Ezra swung his feet, hopping down off the table. "Am I done?" he asked.

"Not quite." Leslynn hesitated, looking suddenly uncomfortable. She coughed into her fist. "There's been an infection going around in the ranks. I'm sure you've heard."

Ezra nodded. "Yeah. Wedge caught it yesterday, was a snot-covered bundle of blankets last I saw him." He squinted, staring off, trying to recall what Wedge had called it. "Balma-something flu?"

"Balmorra flu," Leslynn corrected. "I don't suppose you've ever been inoculated against it? Or had it previously?" she asked, tone slightly hopeful.

He shook his head. "Not likely."

Leslynn's expression dimmed. "Rebel Command wants me to immunize anyone who hasn't caught it yet," she explained. "To keep the spread down."

That hung in the air a moment.

"...Oh," Ezra said, realizing the implications. He tried to ignore the winch tightening in his throat, the nervous way his pulse pricked up. "Are—are you sure you have to—? I can't—" He reorganized his thoughts. "Can I just catch it and suffer through it and get it over with that way?" he asked.

She narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Do you really _want_ to?"

Ezra thought back to Wedge's greenish, sweat-covered face and slumped his shoulders.

"No," he admitted, dropping his eyes to the floor.

A silence stretched out. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, uncomfortably loud.

He felt Leslynn stepping closer.

"Would you... like someone else to be here in the room with you?" she offered.

He inhaled slowly, his breath shaking, vibrating like his hands were now. "No," he started to say. "I—I think I'm—I can handle—"

He stopped, squeezing his eyes closed.

_Don't be stubborn, you idiot_ , he chided himself.

He opened his eyes again, looking up at Dr. Leslynn. "Can... can you call Kanan?" he said timidly.

She nodded, stepping back and looking for her comlink.

Ezra moved back towards the examination table, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself while he waited.

-SWR-

Kanan walked through the door only a few minutes later, soft smile on his face.

"Hey kid," he called, coming forward. "I'm glad you called for me."

Ezra was staring down at the table, his teeth pressing together. "This is stupid," he muttered. "It's just a shot. Just a litle nee—needle," he said, his voice stumbling and hitching over the word. "I should be able to handle this." His hands crept up towards his head, fingers scratching through his hair.

"Easy," Kanan told him, reaching out and grabbing one of his hands, pulling it firmly away from digging into his scalp. "Let's just focus on what we need to do for now. Don't think about what you _should_ be able to handle. Trust me," he said, squeezing Ezra's hand. "It doesn't help."

Kanan was right. Of course he was. But that nagging little negative voice in his head—sounded like Pryce most days—kept whispering to him.

He clenched his jaw tighter, forcing himself to tune it out.

Leslynn had her tray next to her, just out of Ezra's line of sight, and stepped in front of it as she turned to face the two Jedi.

Kanan alerted to her movement. "You're ready?" he guessed.

Leslynn nodded, then, remembering with a wince that Kanan couldn't see it, added verbally, "I am. Go ahead and do your..." She trailed off, making wide gestures with her hands. "...Force... thing..."

Kanan's other hand came around Ezra's, clasping the boy's palm tightly with both of his. "All right," he said. "Just like we did on the _Ghost_. Focus."

Ezra let his eyes fall closed, prying his jaws apart and taking in a slow breath.

He reached out, the Force coming into focus like a warm pocket of air around him.

_Emotion, yet peace,_ he recited inside his head.

He felt Leslynn pushing up his sleeve, and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

_Passion, yet serenity._

He wondered idly why the mantra Kanan had taught him was slightly different than the one he'd heard studying the Jedi holocron.

Maybe Kanan had learned a different version.

He risked peeking an eye open and regretted it when he saw the syringe. It was much thinner than the ones they'd used on him on the _Chimaera_ , but that didn't stop the flickers of panic that started to creep through the warm edges of the Force.

Leslynn stepped over to the table, her face grimacing apologetically.

"It'll be quick," she promised.

Ezra nodded, closing his eyes again and bracing himself, his throat dry.

Echoes sounded dully outside the circle of calm surrounding him and Kanan. Ezra concentrated on his own breathing, keeping to a quiet corner of his mind. Nervous trickles pulsed through his veins.

There was a small pinprick.

Ezra gasped sharply, his hand mashing Kanan's. His face screwed tightly. Fragments of Pryce's voice pounded in his head.

"Ezra?" Kanan called, tone laced with worry.

Ezra let out the breath he was holding, letting his memories and emotions disappear into the Force. "I'm okay!" he wheezed. "I'm... I'm okay."

Leslynn was dabbing at his arm with an antiseptic swab. Ezra blinked. Was it already over?

His breathing steadied, the pings of anxiety in his head fading away.

"All done!" Leslynn chirped brightly. She sealed a bacta patch onto the injection site and stepped back with a smile. "You handled that _very_ well, Ezra."

Ezra felt the corners of his mouth twitching up, mingled relief and pride vibrating through him.

"Not bad, kid," Kanan complimented warmly, patting his hand. He stood, pulling Ezra to his feet. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see if Hera's back from her mission."

He followed after Kanan, pulling down his sleeve, frowning slightly as he noticed the scars still left from all the other injections.

He put it out of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ever-customary Chapter Notes!
> 
> 1\. Still no therapists, but at least Kanan's around! And has calming Force techniques.
> 
> 2\. Leslynn is not quite over being dragged into Kanan and Ezra's Battle Meditation back in "Cracks In The Mirror" and would prefer they do their weird Jedi magic without her this time thank you very much.
> 
> 3\. A slightly altered version of the Jedi Code appears in the Kanan: The Last Padawan comic, as taught to him by Depa Bilaba. And I always found it fascinating in the way it was altered and how fitting it was for Depa-AKA Miss Trained By "I'll Just Invent A New Lightsaber Form That Lets Me Safely Channel Dark Side Energy Without Falling" Mace Windu-to have learned it that way. So the unconventional Jedi teachings continue to get passed down.
> 
> 4\. And now we see Ezra starting to make a bit of progress in his recovery, namely, not avoiding offered help and finding healthier coping mechanisms than being a workaholic. (For now at least.)


	11. Settled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter update, for this week. The next two chapters will be longer (and heavier, frankly), so I figured y'all could use one more little lighter chapter to cleanse the palate before we get into them. Enjoy!

"Well now," Hera commented, hands on her hips and an amused smile tugging at her mouth as she entered the common room. "What's this?" she asked.

Zeb glanced down sheepishly at the sleeping teen curled up under his arm. "Er..." he said. "We were talking and... I dunno 'e just kind of nodded off on me."

Kanan, sitting in the chair behind them, straightened up. "Did you need something, Hera?" he offered.

Hera came further into the room, one hand drifting up to rub her shoulder as she looked down with affection at Ezra, drooped against Zeb's left side where they both sat in the booth. "Well I was _going_ to ask Zeb if he could help me move the ion charges into the cargo bay but..." she explained.

Zeb chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, I'm stuck. Apparently I make a right good pillow."

"That's all right," Hera said. Her eyes were full of softness and warmth as she watched Ezra. "I'll get someone else. You can stay right there."

She fell silent a moment.

Ezra's breathing was slow and light. He wasn't in very deep sleep, but deep enough that he hadn't stirred at their voices. His features were loose, expression calm. He looked... at ease.

Hera sighed heavily.

"I haven't seen him sit still in days," she mumbled.

"I know," Kanan said, shaking his head. "Trust me, I've been trying to get him to rest since yesterday."

"That's kind of how this happened, actually," Zeb added lightly, tilting his head at Ezra. "Turns out all 'e needed was to sit down long enough."

Hera bit her lip. "Is he still having trouble sleeping?" Hera asked.

"Uh, yep," Zeb replied flatly.

"Every night," Kanan confirmed, mouth flattening into a frown.

Hera smeared a hand down her face, her eyes falling. "I wish there was something I could do to help him," she said miserably. "I hate seeing him struggle like this."

"Not sure what else there is you _could_ do," Zeb told her, adjusting his arm on Ezra slightly, watching carefully to make sure the boy didn't stir. "Sabine and I sit up with him, _if_ he wakes us," he began to list. "Kanan sometimes catches him wandering the ship. Even Chopper's been nicer to him than normal, which is just _weird_."

Hera brought her hand away from her face, holding her elbow. "Kanan? When we got you back from Tarkin it helped you to have some white noise running. You think that would work for Ezra?"

Kanan stroked his beard, considering it. "Could drown out the _Ghost_ 's air filtration system at least. He's mentioned something about that."

That, Hera hadn't heard. "Oh?" she asked.

"The sound it makes," Zeb clarified for her. "They had an IT-O interrogation droid in the room with 'im. Apparently the humming is similar."

"Hm." Hera seemed deep in though, a hand under her chin.

"Did you still need someone to help you move those ion charges?" Kanan queried.

Hera stirred from her trace. "If you're up for it," she said. "Don't worry, they're already loaded on hoverlifts."

Kanan smirked as he put his hands on the rails of the chair to stand up. "Oh so you'll let me _move_ the charges, you just don't want me lifting them," he teased.

She smiled fondly at the joke as he made his way over, one of his hands finding the small of her waist. "I'm sure you'll be very careful," she quipped back. She let an arm slide around him as they turned to go out of the room.

"I'll just... stay here then," she heard Zeb say behind them.

"Let me know when he wakes up," Hera called over her shoulder, as they passed through the door and out into the quiet hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too many chapter notes this round, ain't really got that much to say.
> 
> 1\. The idea for this chapter just sort of flitted across my mind; it occurred to me that the adults hadn't yet had a talk among themselves about the whole situation and then the mental image of Ezra sleeping on Zeb crept in and it was too cute not to add so! This chapter happened.
> 
> 2\. I really just wanted to write Kanan and Hera being all concerned Space Dad and Space Mom over Ezra is what I'm saying. Also big brother Zeb cuddles. :)
> 
> 3\. 'nother little hint towards Kanan's ordeal and recovery after Mustafar.


	12. Night Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowbar chapter! This was a fun one. I always love doing nightmare sequences.

_Ezra wandered down a long, stark gray corridor. It seemed familiar. Ezra felt like he knew it somehow._

_His footsteps echoed hollowly on the immaculately clean floor. There wasn't anyone else there except him. Well, him and_ —

_Ezra stopped walking, his breath catching. Someone was standing in the middle of the hallway. A tall man in white._

_With blue skin and glowing red eyes._

_Ezra felt ice shoot through him, freezing him to the spot. He was pinned in place with terror, and that was before Thrawn even began to speak._

_"It hardly matters whether or not you choose to disclose anything," he was saying, those eerie red eyes trained on him with clinical indifference. "I will glean the answers I seek one way or another."_

_No no no... This had been up in his office not... not down here..._

_Ezra could almost see the outlines of the man's desk floating behind him, bisecting the corridor._

_"I do prefer not to subject you to more extensive methods..." Thrawn was continuing on, and Ezra heard the clinical monotone take on a threatening edge. The red eyes narrowed. "...but I_ have _accounted for all of your potential attempts at defiance. Do not force me to order your torture, Bridger."_

_His mouth ran dry and his ears were screaming. With wide eyes Ezra found his paralysis lifting just enough for him to take one step back, then another. He shook his head mutely. Thrawn didn't move but Ezra could still sense the threat rolling off him, ebbing out from his standing form._

_Just as he was turning from Thrawn to run he ran smack into someone else._

_Ezra bounced off her, startled, dread and fear slamming into him as fingers twisted into his hair and yanked his head back, an iron grip seizing his right wrist._

_"Ahh!" he cried out, pain ripping the sound from him._

_He recognized it was Governor Pryce without even needing to see her, knew her by the nails digging against his scalp, by her hot breath as it blew on his cheek and neck. She was pulling his wrist back, wrenching his arm behind him._

_"Answer the Grand Admiral, Bridger," she hissed._

_"No!" he yelled, shriller this time as he struggled in a panic. "Let go! Let GO!"_

_Her touch burned him like acid. He wanted her off, wanted to scratch off any trace of her. She was squeezing his wrist hard enough to crack bone, keeping his arm pinned painfully to his back. Ezra could barely breathe through the fear racing through him now._

_"Very well," decided Thrawn, even though Ezra hadn't said anything. Red eyes flicked up to the woman behind him. "Governor Pryce, if you would please."_

_She began to push him forward, grip tight on his hair and his arm. Ezra's throat locked up, his breaths coming in short and stilted as he saw the hallway was now the interrogation room. Thrawn had vanished and in his place were Stormtroopers and Imperial technicians, all watching him silently like carved stone pillars._

_Ezra dug in his feet, pushed back against Pryce as she forced him towards that hated table. His feet slid, his arm wrenched as she increased the pressure on his wrist. He gasped and his face twisted in pain, even as he fought harder against his unwanted movement towards the table._

_"No..." he said hoarsely. "No... no..."_

_She was about to pin him cheek-first into its cold metal surface now._

_With a burst of strength he yanked forward away from her... and her hands disappeared, and the table too, leaving him stumbling, tripping, falling to his hands and knees._

_He was in the hanger. There was a loud firefight going on behind him._

_He shuddered in relief. He was still in danger, he knew Pryce was still behind him somewhere, but at least now he could steal a ship and escape._

_Something tingled on the back of his neck before he could move._

_**Ezra.** _

_Ezra whipped around in alarm. His eyes searched frantically. Pryce and some Stormtroopers exchanged fire with Rebels on the other side of the room, but the voice calling his name hadn't come from there._

_Wait..._

_His eyes widened. Just off to the side, near the docked TIE fighters, there was a familiar dark figure with distinctive red and black tattoos and burning yellow eyes._

_**Ezra,** _ _Maul said again, even though his mouth didn't move._

_Ezra snapped to his feet, stumbling backwards. "Stay away from me!" he shouted._

_He turned, looking for the exit. The shuttle... He could take the shuttle._

_Something seemed wrong as he moved towards it, aimed for the lowered ramp. His limbs seemed heavier, his movement slow and sluggish. A numbness was moving through his veins._

_Like he'd been sedated._

_"No no, c'mon..." he whispered, fighting through the sensation. His eyes darted back briefly over his shoulder. Maul hadn't moved, but Pryce was turning away from the firefight, glaring at him venomously. Ezra whipped forward again, reaching for the ramp and the light from inside spilling across it._

_His legs were weakening. Ezra felt them giving out on him just as he reached the bottom of the ramp. Ezra gasped, tilting forward, his palms hitting the ramp._

_"C'mon c'mon, move... move..." he willed himself._

_He was so close..._

_The strength was leaving his arms too. A dull roar was rushing up in his ears, fading out the sounds of the battle._

_A sensation of dread filled him as his vision darkened. He stretched out for the top of the ramp, weakly._

_Someone's hand was reaching for him_ _—Maul's or Pryce's, he didn't know and he didn't look._

_He covered his neck with both arms, cowering. His head drooped towards the ramp and_ —

-SWR-

His eyes shot open.

Ezra sat bolt upright, biting a knuckle harshly. His finger screamed in protest but the pain helped him focus, helped him remember where he was.

Zeb was snoring softly in the bunk beneath him. It was such a comforting sound Ezra shuddered with his relief.

He pulled his hand out of his mouth, pressing both palms over his eyes.

_It was just another nightmare_ , he told himself. _That's all. Just a bad dream. It wasn't really him._

His breath came in a shuddering gasp.

Force he _hoped_ it wasn't. That was the _last_ thing he wanted to be dealing with on top of everything else.

He realized he was shaking. Ezra slowly put his hands down, calling to mind dozens of Kanan's lessons about centering himself, clearing his mind.

His breathing evened out.

Tentatively, fearful of what he might find, Ezra closed his eyes and probed out. He felt the fraying, tattered edges of the bond that had connected him to Maul and...

Nothing.

There was nothing. The bond was still severed.

Ezra opened his eyes again, a little calmer. Maul hadn't been calling out for him. It had just been the dream.

Just the dream.

He shuddered, coming out of the Force, letting his senses dull.

The room was utterly still.

Ezra's legs shifted as he lay back down, nervous pings reverberating through him as he contemplated going back to sleep. Even though the nightmare was fading quickly, the uneasiness that always came after one was still clinging to him.

_I'm okay. It wasn't him,_ he told himself again. _Just go back to sleep._

He lay still a long time, but he couldn't shake it off. It settled around his lungs and chest like a heavy, oppressive blanket. His breathing grew tighter. He knew if he couldn't calm down from it, it would just build right back up into panic.

Last night it had been so bad he'd fled to Sabine's room. A few seconds of frantic rapping on her door and she'd opened up, wordlessly letting him in and holding him for an hour while he talked himself down.

"Where are you right now, Ezra?" she'd asked him softly.

"Yavin," he'd whispered. "I'm on the _Ghost._ "

"That's right," she'd encouraged. "And I'm not gonna let _anything_ happen to you. You hear me?"

He'd buried his face in her shoulder with a murmur.

Thinking of the memory brought a bit of cool serenity back into his chest. That was right... Sabine was there. She was always someone he could turn to. Or he could wake the snoring Zeb. Or go shake Kanan awake. Or Hera.

He wasn't alone.

Ezra turned on his side. He rubbed his right wrist soberly, feeling phantom pain from Pryce's grip still lingering under his skin.

Zeb's snoring continued below him. Ezra listened for a long while, his anxiety fading.

His eyes slid closed as he drifted off back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I summon Chapter Notes!
> 
> 1\. Revisiting Ezra's interrogation via flashbacks and nightmares always gives me lovely opportunities to fill in the gaps and the behind the scenes from "Cracks In The Mirror". :) Granted, Ezra's fuzzy memory still messes things up so I won't say Thrawn's lines are things he definitely said but it's along the same general lines.
> 
> 2\. Oh look, now the other major source of his traumas is starting to reappear in his dreams! Lol.
> 
> 3\. I strongly headcanon that Maul is a constant in Ezra's nightmares ever since Malachor so really it was only a matter of time before he showed up.
> 
> 4\. Couldn't resist putting in a little Sabine and Ezra moment. Sue me.
> 
> Coming around to the home stretch. Two more chapters in this baby! Just a little setup for things to come and we'll wrap things up here.


	13. Lost

Kanan's bleary eyes blinked. His mind felt muddled, groggy, like after a disturbed sleep. He lifted his face from the pillow, smearing a hand over his cheek.

_Ugh..._

His head was full of sawdust and obnoxious ringing. Kanan groaned.

 _Okay,_ he thought. _I know I wasn't drinking last night. So what's this hangover for?_

Vaguely he recalled sensing a disturbance in the Force, a frightened storm passing by his room, agitating him through the bond he shared with Ezra.

Kanan sat up, raking his fingers through the messy loose strands of his hair as he searched through his headache for the memory.

As he was sitting there, there came another soft knock on his door, and Kanan realized that that had been what had woken him.

He rubbed his eyes. "Come in," he called.

The door slid open. Early predawn light mingled with the artificial illumination of the _Ghost_. Zeb stood in the doorway silhouetted by it. His body posture was nervous, an anxious expression on his face.

"Sorry t' wake you, Kanan," he said apologetically. "You seen Ezra?"

Kanan pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples. "I think I felt him. He passed my door a while ago."

"How long ago?" Zeb pressed.

Kanan seemed to read the worry in Zeb's voice and dropped his hands, his face beginning to squinch in confusion and concentration. "Not sure," he said. "Could've been a few minutes, could've been a couple hours." He turned his face towards Zeb. "Is he all right?" he asked, his tone growing concerned.

"Dunno," Zeb replied, rubbing the back of his head. "He ran out of the room early this morning."

All Zeb had heard was the loud thump of Ezra's boots as they'd hit the floor. By the time he'd stirred from his sleep, rolled over and looked towards the door, it was already slid open and Ezra had disappeared through it. Zeb had sleepily contemplated getting up from the bunk to go check on him, but the warmth and his fuzzy thoughts had won out and he'd just turned back over. The room had been too, too quiet when he'd awoken, a creeping sense of guilt and worry stirring Zeb's feet into action and leading him to Kanan's door.

"Thought he might've come to you," he explained to the man, with a shrug.

"Not to me," Kanan said, shaking his head.

Zeb made a discontent noise and stepped back down the hall to Sabine's room, banging heavily on the door.

"Sabine!" he called loudly. "You see Ezra this morning?"

He wasn't sure she had heard him at first. But finally his keen ears picked up ruffling sheets and light footsteps crossing to the door, and a moment later it slid open. Sabine rubbed bleary rimshot eyes and combed her fingers through her messy hair.

"Why would I have seen him?" she grumbled.

Zeb snorted. "Uh, because you two have been sneaking into each other's rooms at night to—" Sabine's eyes widened in horror and she made frantic silencing motions across her throat, seeing Kanan standing right there in the hall near Zeb's shoulder, and Zeb quickly caught himself. "— _talk_... about his nightmares... and stuff."

Sabine's gaze darted to Kanan, who was frowning like he didn't _quite_ buy Zeb's cover, and she flicked her hands down, crossing her arms and leaning on the side of the doorframe.

"Well he didn't make his way to me _last_ night," she told them with firm emphasis. Then, ever practical, she asked, "You tried his comm?"

"You know he doesn't answer," Zeb said flatly.

"Well, unless you've got a _better_ idea!" Sabine snapped.

Kanan put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down," he said. "He's probably just out walking the base again." He turned towards the cockpit, the hand that had been on her shoulder extending out, palm forward. "I'll go see if I can find him."

He took a few steps down the hallway and stopped, frowning.

Sabine felt a flicker of nervousness. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Kanan turned to one side, than the other, his hand still reaching out like an antenna. "I can't sense him anywhere near," he replied.

Sabine's insides gave a jolt at that, her heart rolling over thickly. "Wh—what do you mean? He's on the base, right?" Kanan didn't answer her right away, which only made her throat drier and her pulse give a tingling flutter through her veins. "Kanan?" she called, her voice taking on a strained edge.

"Just give me a minute," he said, shortly, almost snapping at her.

He moved back into his room, shutting the door after him.

"Oh boy..." muttered Zeb. "Really hope the kid's not in trouble."

Sabine forced herself to take a long breath. "I... I'm gonna try his comlink," she decided, stepping back into her room and looking for her wrist guard.

"I'll see if anyone on base saw him after he left the _Ghost,_ " Zeb said, trotting toward the cockpit.

-SWR-

Sabine was biting her lip as she paced, the room feeling too small and confined to contain her nervous energy. Her fingers itched to press the button on her gauntlet's comlink again.

Chopper poked his head in, waddling on his legs struts until he could see around the door frame.

 _"WUB WUUB?"_ he asked.

"No. No luck yet," she told the droid, giving in and mashing the button. She stopped in place as she yelled into it. "Ezra you lunkhead, _open your blasted channel_ for once!" she snapped in frustration.

From further down the hallway, Hera's soft footfalls met her ears and then the Twi'lek pilot herself was stopping in front of her open doorway.

"What's going on?" she asked in confusion.

Sabine simmered down, dropping her arms to her side and shaking her head. "We can't find Ezra," she explained in a rush.

Both of Hera's eyebrows raised a fraction. "Can't find him as in...?"

"As in we can't find him. He's not on the ship, he won't pick up his comm, and apparently Kanan is having trouble sensing him!" Sabine said, throwing her hands out in agitated motions.

Hera frowned, her eyes furrowing. "Have you checked in the main hanger?" she asked.

The woman's calm demeanor seemed to help still the jitters inside Sabine. "Zeb's asking around," she said, shoulders deflating. "He hasn't gotten back or commed in yet."

Hera nodded, already moving off, raising her own comlink to her lips.

"Zeb, talk to me," she said. "Where's Ezra? What have you been able to find out?"

 _"Hera,"_ Zeb replied. The background behind Zeb's voice was noisy, sounded like he was down near one of the power conduits. _"I've checked everywhere I can think of. No one I've talked to has seen 'im."_ The Lasat sighed wearily. _"I think he might've run off into the jungle."_

She pinched her forehead with her fingers, closing her eyes. "Sounds about right," she muttered. "Sabine, Chopper, come with me, I'll need your help."

Sabine's fists clutched together in front of her breast plate, as if she could physically will her heart to calm down, as she followed after Hera, and Chopper rolled along behind her.

-SWR-

Kanan sat in the center of a bubble of calm. The agitation and worry he could sense from the others outside the room lingered on the edges of his awareness, as he submerged himself into the Force.

His senses extend outwards, quietly looking.

The beings around him came into focus. He pressed past the familiar signatures of Hera and Sabine. Brushed aside the pilots and technicians milling about on the base. Out and out his mind expanded, feeling the essence and pulse of the Force moving through every living thing. The trees, the grass, the strange wildlife creeping around the jungle floor and in the canopy. Through the Force, all things were connected.

Kanan felt along the line of the thread connecting him to Ezra, following it to its source.

There.

There he was.

His emotions were clouded, the air around him troubled and apprehensive, but he was whole, uninjured, and... relatively calm.

Kanan allowed himself a small of breath of relief before his hand drifted up and his mind called out.

"Ezra..." he whispered softly.

-SWR-

He pushed past dangling ferns and ducked under a low-hanging vine, the damp earth squishing a little under his feet. Ezra's hands grasped his arms, holding himself soberly as he trudged.

He looked up from staring at his toes and paused, freezing in disbelief. His mouth fell open, exasperated.

A gnarly half-sheared tree was in front of him. A very familiar gnarly half-sheared tree. That he knew he'd passed at least once.

"Great," Ezra snorted, kicking a tuft of moss with his toe.

His legs ached. He wasn't sure how long he'd been on his feet; he couldn't see the sun's position through the thick canopy no matter how much he squinted up through the leaves. It had to have been at least couple hours though, because the chilly night had given way to a warm, humid day.

Too humid. His shirt was beginning to stick uncomfortably to his skin.

Ezra put a hand on the crooked tree, resting his forehead wearily on the bark. His adrenaline had long since run dry. He was tired, sore, and just a little bit hungry.

Unfortunately he was also, apparently, going in circles.

He closed his eyes, centering himself. The tree came alive with a presence in the Force, thrumming with the sturdy strands of age. He could sense each blade of grass, each buzzing insect. The Force's warm encompassing presence was a comfort, even if it didn't immediately provide clairvoyance as to the direction he should take to get back to base.

There was a stirring, however, centering around his left wrist, and a gentle urge poking through his mind. Ezra opened his eyes, glancing down towards his wrist comm, a premonition of something rippling through the Force.

 _I should answer that,_ came his vague thought.

He withdrew his senses, leaning back upright and raising his arm. He pressed the button to activate his comlink with a bit of guilt. He knew he was supposed to keep an open line of communication. He'd been leaving the device off most days. It wasn't like he was going to be called in for a mission so he didn't really see the point.

Kanan's worry came through to him the moment he opened the channel.

 _"Ezra?"_ he called, strain and stress in his voice. _"Spectre 6, do you copy?"_

Ezra flinched, the guilt growing heavier. He must've been out of contact longer than he'd thought.

"I'm here, Kanan," he replied at once.

A breath of relief sounded over the channel, and in Ezra's mind through their bond.

 _"You had us worried, kid,"_ he told Ezra. A pause, as if his master was formulating his thoughts, and then Kanan asked, _"Are you all right?"_

Ezra stepped back from the gnarled tree, lifting his arm higher. "I'm okay," he assured Kanan, and he was, his waking panic was long gone and even his memory of the nightmare was fading into vague fragments. "Just... lost," he admitted with chagrin.

 _"Can you get above the canopy?"_ Kanan asked.

Ezra looked up, eyeing the trees intently. "I think so." He took a step or two back. "Hang on."

Summoning the Force he leapt up for the first branch, high above his head. Both arms caught hold of it; he pulled himself up and braced himself on the trunk.

It took a few minutes of grappling, climbing, and Force-assisted jumps, but finally the leaves thinned out and Ezra poked his head out above the tops of the branches.

A light breeze, heavy with moisture and the scent of damp earth, rustled through his hair and clothes here. Ezra took a moment to breathe it in. He hadn't realized how stuffy it was down in the underbrush.

Perching himself carefully in the crook of two splitting branches, Ezra began a slow survey of the horizon in all directions.

A nervous prick ran through him.

"Uh..." he said into his comlink. "I can't see the base."

There was a tired sigh from Kanan, who muttered something that sounded like, _"Only you, Ezra."_ Louder, he said, _"Hang tight. We're sending up a flare."_

-SWR-

Ezra sat back in the upper branches, waiting, his foot bouncing impatiently. After a few moments a sudden glimmer of light caught his attention. Ezra leaned forward, hand shielding his eyes and squinting.

A trailing red rocket far in the distance, the glow just a pinprick against the horizon really, soared up into the sky.

He straightened, hope filling his chest at the sight.

His comlink piped up with Kanan's voice again. _"Ezra. We sent up the flare. Did you_ _—?"_

"I see it!" he told Kanan, already moving, sliding down the branches from limb to limb on his way down, trying to keep the distant spot of light within sight for as long as he could. "I'm on my way."

 _"Keep in contact,"_ Kanan told him sternly. _"Let us know if you run into any trouble."_

Ezra snorted, finally dropping to the jungle floor with a heavy thump, wobbling only a moment before finding his balance again. "Kanan, come on. I can handle anything this jungle wants to throw at me," he assured the older Jedi.

 _"Really?"_ Kanan drawled with severe skepticism. _"Where's your lightsaber right now, Ezra?"_

Ezra gave a start, his hand flashing down to grasp empty air by his belt. He grimaced.

"Back on the ship," he admitted, embarrassed.

 _"And your blaster?"_ Kanan pressed.

Ezra rubbed his face and started walking. "Probably the same place," he said. Brighter, he continued, "But hey, if anything out here wants to eat me I'll just connect to it and convince it not to."

 _"That's a terrible plan."_ This time the voice piping through the open channel was Zeb's.

"Which is why it's going to work," Ezra argued, lifting a hand as he pushed past some low-hanging branches.

A soft, weary groan. _"Just get back here as soon as ya can, eh? Sabine's almost in hysterics,"_ Zeb told him.

Guilt snaked through him again, dragging down his head, making him lower his eyes even though there was no one around to send him scolding glares. "I will," he promised soberly.

The line fell quiet for a while.

Ezra pressed forward. He tried to focus on his path, on keeping his heading relatively in line with where he'd seen the flare rise up.

Tried to drown out the hissing negative voice in his head that was berating him for making everyone worry so much.

"Great plan, Ez," he muttered, shoving aside vines and ferns. "Let's go for a run in the jungle in the middle of the night. Get ourselves lost. That'll convince everyone you should be let back out into the field."

His foot kicked a passing stump in frustration.

 _I'm exhausted, I'm starving, I nearly gave my master and all my friends a heart attack,_ he thought miserably. _And over what? A stupid nightmare?_

The reminder brought him to a brief halt. He exhaled shakily.

He couldn't remember now what had been so terrifying about it. All that was left were disjointed images. Stark gray walls. Eerie glowing green ichor. Eyes watching from the shadows. A pale blue alien face. The white-armored arm of a Stormtrooper reaching for him. A red lightsaber blade burning near his face.

He shivered.

What he _did_ recall, with horrible clarity, was waking in panic, thinking the IT-O droid was right above him, and feeling the uncontrollable urge to run.

So he had.

Ezra sighed and started moving again.

Maybe he should convince Hera to start locking down the _Ghost_ for the night. It wouldn't do anything to stop his frantic midnight bolting, but at least it would contain him long enough for someone else to wake up and help him calm down.

 _Or maybe I should let Sabine sleep in the bunk with me again,_ came the stray cheeky thought, for which the negative voice in his head immediately chastised him.

 _You're not a child,_ it told him. _You can't keep using her as a security blanket._

His hands curled around his elbows as his pace slowed to a trudge, the boy indulging a few self-deprecating thoughts before shaking himself and getting back to the business of returning to base.

The jungle was a monotonous blur around him. Time stretched out, each moment feeling like an hour. He caught glimpses here and there of brightly colored swooping birds, or the beady eyes of a small mammal. The humid air grew hotter as the sun climbed towards midday, and sweat began to glisten on Ezra's forehead.

He wiped his brow, looking longingly up towards the tree canopy. Surely he'd be able to see the base from here by now?

He couldn't resist making a quick check, and maybe lingering up in the fresh air for a little longer than was necessary. The tips of the stone Massasi temple were peeking over the trees now. It shouldn't be too much longer.

When he returned to ground the air seemed oddly chillier. Ezra brushed his arms off, feeling the hairs tingling, sticking up. He paid an uneasy glance around.

The jungle seemed still and quiet. He couldn't see anything. Didn't sense anything unusual in the immediate area. But he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that something was watching—

An unearthly howl sounded.

Ezra jolted and startled out of his skin. Whatever creature had made the noise was far enough away that Ezra couldn't have been its target, but still too close for Ezra's comfort, as he burst into a sprint away from the source.

His heart hammered in his chest and his lungs were tight as he fled. He kept his ears trained behind, straining for the sounds of snapping limbs or padding footsteps, something to indicate the creature was following.

After a moment or two though, when it looked like there was still no sign of pursuit, Ezra began to relax. His sprint slowed to a jog.

"Howlers," he recognized finally. "Ugh, hate those things." The reptilian predators were nasty, bad-tempered creatures with a sonic attack so intense it could knock a person out if they were too close. Ezra suspected the one he'd just encountered wasn't hungry, just territorial, and that was why it hadn't chased him.

He considered reaching out with the Force to connect to it, send it a quick apology for disturbing it, but he decided against, and just kept walking.

The uneasy feeling disappeared behind him.

-SWR-

Ezra's sides and hips ached, a painful stitch pulling at his ribs. Sweat glistened on his face and his breathing was labored. He felt like if he took five more steps he would just collapse, and that was when he emerged from the trees into the clear space that marked the edge of the airfield.

The crew of the _Ghost_ was clustered about twenty feet off, waiting. Kallus was there too, for once divested of his younger charges. Sabine was pacing in tight circles. Kanan was the first to alert to him, his face turning in Ezra's direction.

"He's here," he said to the others.

Palpable relief drifted up from them as they turned towards him. Sabine ceased pacing, lunging across the distance for him.

Ezra's tired brain was trying to come up with a witty comment, a quip to downplay how exhausted and haggard he must look, but he couldn't even begin to formulate the words in his head before Sabine reached him, nearly bowling him over and knocking him breathless as she flung her arms around him.

 _"Urnk!"_ Ezra grunted.

"Don't _do_ that to us!" Sabine chastised him, hissing the words in his ear, a wavering note of lingering fear and worry in her voice.

Ezra immediately sobered, all thoughts of cracking a joke gone and new guilt rising up in him, cinching around his throat. His arms came up and wrapped around her, and he buried his nose in her neck, mumbling his words.

"I'm sorry, Sabine. It won't happen again, I promise."

"It'd better not!" she snapped, but there was laughter behind her tone now, relief flooding out the anxious worry.

Ezra lifted his head, looking around Sabine to the others. He reached out through his bond with Kanan, sending the older Jedi reassurance.

 _I'm okay,_ was the unspoken sentiment.

Kanan nodded. _I know._

Hera and Zeb were walking up to him, Kallus trailing a little behind them, his eyebrow raised curiously. Ezra coughed and extracted himself from Sabine, realizing this had been the second time in as many months the ex-ISB agent had seen Sabine clinging to him like her life depended on it. He hoped the man wasn't getting the wrong idea about them.

He stumbled right into another embrace, this one from Hera. "I was about to ask Mon Mothma to put the base on alert and send out search parties," she joked, her fingers threading through his hair. Ezra melted into the comforting touch, his weariness and aches catching up with him.

"I don't believe it," Zeb grumbled as he reached them. The Lasat shook his head. "How d'you spend eight hours out in this hellhole jungle and come out without a single scratch on ya?"

Ezra pulled away from Hera, rubbing the back of his head.

"Anything that wanted to eat me probably would have done it back when it was dark and I was too distracted to notice," he said. He paid Hera a guilty look. "I'm sorry, Hera. I didn't... I didn't mean to make everyone worry."

Her hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. "You want to tell me what upset you?" she asked.

"I... " Ezra shrunk a bit, self-consciously. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and swallowed thickly, heat creeping up his neck. "...had a nightmare. I don't remember it now but it must've been pretty bad." His hands curled into self-protective fists by his sides. "I woke up disoriented. The... the air was on and I thought..." He started stammering through his explanation, acutely aware of how trivial it sounded. "...I thought the IT-O droid was in the room so I just... I... I ran," he forced out.

Hera was frowning in concern, eyes scrunching as she mulled over something in her head.

Ezra shook himself, finishing up. "I didn't even realize I'd headed into the jungle until my head cleared."

"And you didn't just come right back because...?" questioned Kallus.

Ezra grimaced. "I, uh... kind of got lost."

"Always did have a terrible sense of direction," Zeb chuckled.

"I do not!" Ezra protested.

"We're glad you're all right, Ezra," Kanan spoke up, reaching the rest of them. The man had a smile on his face and the Jaig eyes on his mask seemed almost full of mirth. "I'll bet you're more than ready to come back to the _Ghost_ now."

"Uh, yeah," Ezra confirmed with his trademark deadpan snark. "Walking through a hot sweaty jungle full of howlers is _not_ my ideal way to spend a morning."

Hera nodded, directing him towards the ship with a small laugh, whatever she'd been thinking about so intently momentarily forgotten. "What do you need first?" she asked.

"Shower," he replied immediately. "You don't have to tell me, Zeb, I already know I stink."

"I wasn't gonna say anything," Zeb said, turning with Sabine and Kanan to follow him back to the _Ghost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand here's your customary chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. Anger Born Of Worry was basically my approach for Sabine in this chapter, because she'd sooner kick your ass for making her worry than admit how much you scared her. She's probably going to punch Ezra in the face once she and Ahsoka find him, lol.
> 
> 2\. Howlers are Legends canon, featuring most prominently in the Star Wars Jedi Knight video games. They are not fun to fight, due to the aforementioned scream that stuns you. Also they look like small dragons so there's that.
> 
> 3\. Threw a bunch of abstract images in together for Ezra's nightmare and I will leave it up to y'all to decide whether or not they mean anything deeper mwah-ha-ha.
> 
> 4\. Kallus is _totally_ getting the wrong (or is it right??) idea about Ezra and Sabine. XD We're going to have fun with that one later. In a different fic.


	14. Mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this chapter was much shorter when I did my first pass on it, lol. Leave it to me to just keep adding bits and dialogue exchanges and expanding scenes longer and longer. But I mean, that's basically been my approach to the whole AU so really we're par for the course here.
> 
> Anyway...

"Three, six, one, five!" Kanan called out, his lightsaber making contact with Ezra's with a tinny crackling burst.

Ezra moved through the forms seamlessly, blocking each of Kanan's strikes with a practiced ease.

"Good," Kanan said. "Faster! Three, six, one, five!"

Ezra's teeth clenched a bit and his eyes furrowed in concentration as he tried to keep up with the older Jedi.

"Good. Again!"

They repeated the set a couple more times at the same intense speed. Ezra matched Kanan a little better each round. When Kanan thought Ezra had the movements perfected, he changed the next set up a bit, adding three more attacks and three more defensive forms for Ezra to take to block him.

"Three, six, one, five, _one, five, two!_ " he called out.

Ezra's eyes widened a fraction but he betrayed no surprise otherwise, immediately shifting into the new positions. He stumbled a bit on the last step, and quickly straightened up, hoping Kanan hadn't noticed.

But of course the awkward shuffle of his feet had already given him away.

"Almost. Watch your footing," Kanan said.

"Sorry," Ezra muttered, grimacing.

"Again!"

He deflected perfectly the next time.

Kanan paused a moment, stepping back, listening to the sound of Ezra's heavy panting. "We've been at this a while," he observed. He deactivated his saber. "Why don't we take a break?" he offered with a smile.

Ezra was too breathless to say anything more than a quick, grateful, "Yeah, okay." He powered down his saber, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand as he clipped it to his belt. He started moving towards the ladder that led up into the cockpit

He felt Kanan's arm land around his shoulders suddenly and glanced up to see his master looking warmly at him.

"What?" he asked.

"You've improved so much," Kanan told him, proudly. "I wonder how long I can keep up with you."

Ezra grinned at that. "Getting old, Master?" he quipped.

Kanan released him and reached for the rungs of the ladder. "Well, you know..." he bantered back. "War wounds acting up, joints getting creaky, eyes not working the way they used to."

Ezra flinched at the joke and muffled a groan. "Kanan, that's not funny," he whined.

Kanan paused on the ladder and pinched a bit of air between his fingers. "It's a _little_ funny," he insisted.

"No it... it really isn't," Ezra argued, his face twisting as he followed the older Jedi up into the cockpit.

"Says the kid whose sense of humor is darker than the void of space."

This time Ezra did chuckle. Kanan had a point there.

The two of them stepped down the hallway and entered the common room, where Zeb, Hera, and Rex were gathered around the holotable. Sabine was spray-painting something on a wall in the corner. They all looked up as the two Jedi entered.

"Ezra!" Hera called, getting up and crossing to him with a smile. "I was just about to come looking for you."

" _Phantom II_ need to be scrubbed again?" Ezra guessed.

"I just got the report from Dr. Leslynn," Hera said.

His heart stuttered a little bit. Nervous silt began to crawl at the bottom of his stomach. There was a breath of anticipation passing through him.

Hera was oblivious as she finished. "She's given you the go. She says you're all clear to return to active duty."

Ezra blinked in surprise at that. "She... did?"

The Twi'lek pilot nodded. "There's a mission ready for you if you want in on it," she told him.

"Gonna be a real popper!" Rex said, laughing a bit. "Kalani says he found some old CIS broadcasting equipment out near the Rishi Maze. Wants to bring it back to us, see if we can salvage any parts from it." The old clone shook his head. "Never thought I'd see the day when a clanker _offered_ us his spare parts!"

Zeb grinned, ribbing Rex's shoulder good-naturedly before looking to Ezra. "What d'you say, kid?" he asked. "You wanna come?"

"I..." Ezra trailed off, hesitating.

Sabine's spray nozzle stopped a moment as she looked up in concern, and Ezra felt Kanan's gentle nudge on his mind through the Force. Hera's smile began to dim.

Ezra shook himself, swallowing the uncomfortable feelings in his throat, raising his head with a smile of his own.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm game."

-SWR-

"We were supposed to leave for the mission ten minutes ago, where is he?" Rex grumbled, some hours later when the strike team was gathering in the cargo hold. He walked across the hold and called up the ladder. "Hey Hera! Thought the kid said he wanted in on this one?"

Her voice came down the hole a bit muffled. It sounded like she was under the console working on something. "Not now, Rex!" she yelled. "I'm busy!"

Rex squinted, trying to discern the winching tool sounds from each other. "Are you taking the engine relay apart?" he wondered aloud, incredulous.

Zeb scratched behind one of his ears. "You think 'e ran off again?" he asked aside to Kanan.

"He didn't run off," Kanan said automatically, eyes closed and tuned in to the Force. "Feels like he's in the usual spot."

"Oh, his 'brooding corner', of course," Zeb grumbled with a tired eye-roll.

Kanan pushed off the crate he was leaning on, sliding his mask on over his face. "I'll go talk to him."

"No, let me," Sabine said, already moving past him to the ramp. "I think I know what's bothering him." A flush of wind lifted her hair briefly as she trotted out into the open air.

She hurried past the pilots and droids, weaving around other ships as she made her way.

-SWR-

She found him shortly, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees and staring into the trees.

"Hey," she called.

He looked up, a bit startled, at the sound of her voice. "Oh! Sabine." Turning forward again he resumed his former slouch. "Hey," he mumbled.

Had not been expecting _her_ , she figured. She crossed her arms as she walked up.

"Everyone else is ready to go and waiting for you," she told him. She stopped just shy of him, a little behind and to the left. "You getting cold feet?" she asked.

She didn't know if he was going to answer for a long moment, but then he gave a heavy sigh.

"Just... just go ahead and tell them I'm not coming," he said miserably.

"Now why would I do that?" she questioned, deliberately making a show of sitting down next to him.

"Sabine—" he started, frustrated.

"Three hours ago you were whining to me about how bored you were and now when you have a chance for a little excitement you're just going to pass it up?" she demanded. She tried to soften her words with a playful nudge against his arm.

He had no reaction to her gesture, except to pull away slightly. "They're better off without me along. If I go I'll just ruin the mission," he said, eyes downcast, muttering his words into his arms.

Sobering, Sabine's smile faded. "What makes you think that?" she asked softly.

"Uh, remember what happened the _last_ time I was allowed on-mission?" he snapped, his eyes flashing hot at the memory. "I messed up _everything._ If I go back out there the same thing will happen and—"

He broke off, his voice beginning to strain. Sabine watched in alarm as he wiped harshly at his eyes.

"—and I'll just disappoint everyone again," Ezra finished. "It's... it's better that I just... stay here..." His voice was dropping lower, full of intense self-hatred. "...where I can't mess things up." He curled smaller into himself, his face tight.

Sabine felt a flash of hot fury course through her. _Oh no you don't, Ezra Bridger_ , she thought furiously. _Don't you dare think about yourself that way!_

She wound up and punched him hard in the arm.

 _"Ow!"_ he protested, gaping at her with a scandalized expression and rubbing his shoulder fiercely. "What was _that_ for?!"

"Are you gonna stop feeling sorry for yourself or am I gonna have to beat some self-worth back into you?" she sniped at him. He was still staring at her, bewildered, as she grabbed his elbow firmly. "You don't _ever_ ," she emphasized, "say those kinds of things about yourself again." She let go, so she could use her hands to gesture. "So you screwed up a mission. Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last. You wanna know how many ops I busted up when I first started?"

"...Three?" Ezra guessed, still looking at her with confusion.

She smirked. "Try fifteen," she said. She jabbed a thumb at herself. " _My_ issue was that I didn't trust anyone. I kept thinking any moment Kanan or Hera would turn around and make me..." She turned her face aside, flushing with some embarrassment at what she was about to confess she had once believed. "...blow up a civilian administrative building or... use my aerosol paint as some kind of airborne toxin or something."

He gawped at that, eyes widening with offended horror. "Why would you even think they'd _do_ that?" he said.

Sabine nodded vigorously. "Exactly! You think your fears are any less irrational than mine were?" she asked.

He didn't look quite so certain of it now. "Well..." he stammered.

She put her hand on his shoulder—gently this time. "You might screw up, or you might not. Either way, we'll roll with the punches as they come, okay? Like we always do," she said, her voice gentle. "Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"

His smile was grim, the look in his eyes deadened and numb. "Troopers could get me," he pointed out, quietly. "They could take me away again. Put me back on one of those tables. Make me tell them everything."

Sabine's heart twisted silently. Her hand moved up to the back of Ezra's neck, tightening on his collar. She shifted around to face him better, look him right in the eyes with all seriousness.

"Ezra... you know that none of us are letting the Imps get their hands on you ever again, right?" she asked him softly. "No matter what happens, if it looks like you might be in danger, we'd drop everything and screw the mission to make sure you're safe? That you're more important to us than anything we could do for the Rebellion?" she promised.

He dropped his eyes. "I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's just..." He struggled with his words a moment, then gave an aggravated sigh. "I'm supposed to be the one protecting all of you."

Her lips twitched at that, smile pulling at the corners. Stubborn Jedi idiot.

"We'll protect each other. How about that?" she offered.

His face finally broke into a smile at that, weight seeming to lift off his shoulders.

"Sounds fair," he agreed.

Grinning, she pulled back and stood up, offering him her hand. "C'mon," she said. "Let's not keep everyone waiting."

He reached up, putting his palm in hers and letting her pull him to his feet.

-SWR-

The retrieval went off without a hitch. Kalani was delighted to see Ezra again and rattled off statistics and data points from old CIS battles against Jedi-led clone troops, Ezra listening with rapt attention and asking dozens of questions about the various Jedi Kalani had encountered. Not to be outdone, Rex told a few of his own stories as well.

Ezra's head was still buzzing with all the history he'd learned when they returned to Yavin IV, docking the _Phantom II_ in its socket and hauling bundles of scrap metal and wires and bits of old transmitters down the ladder.

As they were moving it, Ezra tilted his head. Something felt... off. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

The ship seemed... quieter.

Rex brought the last bundle down from the shuttle, debating something heatedly with Kanan as he did so and Ezra wandered off, moving into the junction and then down the hallway towards the cockpit.

He still couldn't figure out what it was.

He stepped into the cockpit, his eyes scrunched pensively.

"Hera?"

She was still under the naviconsole, her legs sticking out and her head hidden from sight, though it sounded like she was finishing up, putting panels back together.

"Hmm?" she voiced from her position.

Ezra squinted around the room, trying to find something out of place. "Is there something... different? With the _Ghost_?"

There was a click as a final panel was fitted into place.

"What do you mean?" asked Hera.

"I'm not sure," Ezra answered honestly. "Something... something just _feels_ different or _sounds_ differe—"

He stopped talking, his eyes widening. He turned his head, his ears straining, searching for the familiar mechanical pitch that signified the _Ghost_ 's environmental systems were active.

The air was flowing, he could feel it on his face and through the Force, but the too-shrill edge that he hated, that called forth echoes from his memory...

It was gone.

Nowhere to be heard.

His mouth fell open slightly and he gaped at Hera, just now pulling herself out from under the console.

"Did... did you change the pitch of the air filtration system?" he asked.

Hera didn't look at him, wiping her hands off nonchalantly. "Don't know what you're talking about," she denied.

She was nearly bowled over as Ezra's arms flung around her, the boy burying his face against her shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered tremulously.

Her hands came up, tucking him tighter into her embrace, and she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Shh, shh, you don't have to thank me," she whispered back. "I understand."

Ezra pulled back, giving a happy sob, smearing away the tears gathering in his eyes. "I can't believe... Hera, how do I repay you for something like this?" he said.

"You don't have to repay me, Ezra," she told him, hands on his shoulders and squeezing. "Just promise me you'll be here in the morning."

He nodded quickly. With the _Ghost_ 's ambient air at a quieter pitch, he felt like something had cleared. The buzzing in his mind was farther away than ever. "I promise," he told her.

She smiled warmly. "Are you hungry? I've made some tuberoot soup."

He laughed lightly, shaking his head, the sheer relief still pinging through him. "I think I'll take that offer," he said.

Hera squeezed his shoulders one last time and then let him go, and he almost stumbled as he hurried back down the hall with a lightness that he couldn't believe.

-SWR-

He slept soundlessly, without nightmares, for the first time in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, one last time for this fic, your ever-present chapter notes!
> 
> 1\. The scene of Kanan and Ezra lightsaber training together was one I added. I think originally I just had Hera dropping the news on Ezra. I like it better this way, gives us all another nice little bit of Kanan-Ezra interaction before we close out.
> 
> 2\. And besides, I had to have Kanan make at least _one_ blind joke. I'm still kinda bummed we missed out on that when Season Three came around, the fandom was having a blast having Kanan be all self-deprecating and hilarious that way.
> 
> 3\. Yeah, the scene with Sabine and Ezra was originally a lot shorter too and just kinda snowballed. _Cripes_ I love their interaction, someone help me.
> 
> 4\. Protective Sabine is best Sabine. :)
> 
> 5\. And Hera finally does something about that pesky air system! Probably won't stop the nightmares completely but at least it won't sound like the IT-O droid when he wakes up now.
> 
> And with that, we come to the conclusion! Thank you all for joining me on Ezra's road to recovery—he's not _quite_ there fully yet, but he's making progress.
> 
> There _is_ a third fic planned for this AU (and a fourth and a fifth but one thing at a time here lmao) but I probably won't be able to start publishing it until next year. Hopefully by February.


End file.
